


Hard Act to Follow

by inmyfashion



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Dating for Good PR, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Ginny Baker is an actual ray of sunshine, MIKE LAWSON HUMAN DISASTER, fake dating au, in which Ginny & Mike pretend to date for practical reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2018-12-23 12:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11989707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inmyfashion/pseuds/inmyfashion
Summary: Mike thought he was doing the admirable thing when he comes to Ginny's rescue in a bar, but his one action lands them in the middle of a PR nightmare with only one clear fix in sight--start dating one another.





	1. barstool blows

**Author's Note:**

> I now have 3 incomplete stories because I'm me, but have no fear. BV is close to finished (woot!) and tsbilyaf is a long term project. This is for fun and to throw my hat back into the fake dating ring. I hope you enjoy it. x

The crappy little hole-in-the-wall bar in Peoria is muggy and far more crowded than it should be on a Tuesday night. Ginny figures it’s par for the course with the Padres rolling into town for spring training. Having never done it before, she relies on the attitude of her teammates to be her guide.

From what she can tell, none of the guys seem to be bent out of shape or unusually annoyed, but that probably has more to do with the warm and wanton welcome of some of the women of Peoria who have made their appreciation well known.

Ginny’s taken to holding up the bar and watching her teammates make asses of themselves on the dance floor while nursing the same beer for the past hour.

She's pleased to have made the active Padres roster after an intense, painful, and humbling PT schedule. Her arm is in great shape, she's not going anywhere, at least for the time being, but so much else is still not quite right.

Ginny and Amelia are still on the outs—though Amelia’s made an effort, Ginny’s still not sure what to do about the entire situation. Will’s not talking to her, the Sanders’ home isn't quite the sunny refuge it once was and Mike...Mike is a saga of his own.

He spends the time immediately after the previous season ends in LA. He checks in with her semi-regularly, but it feels forced and not at all like them, so eventually Ginny stops texting him back. When he stops trying to contact her, too, she figures it's for the best.

And it was until they reach Peoria for the first day catchers and pitchers have to report—Valentine’s Day—and they're thrown into each other's company again. They both manage to spend as little outside time around one another, which is helped by Ginny renting a place and getting Livan to be her roommate, while Mike opens up his house to the other rookies.

When the rest of the team finally joins them, Ginny can place additional buffers between she and Mike. Blip opts to stay with her, and she doesn't ask, but it's obvious when he and Mike are near one another that something is off there, too.

Ginny takes a pull of her warm-ish beer before she sets it down on the bar and pushes it away. Blip's not out with the team, Livan is currently in the middle of two very excited co-eds on the dance floor, and Mike is lurking.

Ginny turns to the bar and flags down the bartender, asking the diminutive brown-skinned girl to close out her tab.

“Leaving so soon?” a voice asks from behind Ginny.

She startles and turns over her shoulder to see a big, broad-shouldered man smirking at her. He's handsome by every conventional method: medium-brown skin, eyes that sit somewhere between green and gold, cheekbones that should be too pretty, but work for him, and eyelashes any woman would envy.

Ginny shrugs and lays a ten on the bar before she turns to face him fully. He makes her feel small, but not threatened. “Yeah. I've got an early start tomorrow.”

“You didn't even give me a chance to strike out with you.”

“A self-deprecating baseball pun, huh? Bringing out the big guns?”

“I figure with you it's probably 'go big or go home,' right?”

Ginny laughs genuinely, and it feels good to do. She sticks out her hand and broadens her smile. “I’m Ginny.”

The man clasps her small, calloused hand in his own big, rough, slightly damp hand. “I'm Jake. It's nice to meet you, Ginny. How do you like Peoria so far?”

“I don't really know,” she replies with a tip of her head. She crosses her arms and observes him for a moment before she speaks again. “Haven't seen much outside of the ballpark, the place I’m renting, and this bar. Are you from here?”

He nods and takes a step closer, but doesn't crowd her. “I am, I've been—”

“Hey.”

Ginny's heart stutters in her chest as her eyes cut away from Jake to Mike, who has decided to join the conversation.

“You alright?” Mike asks as he sets his beer on the badly nicked bar. He moves closer to her side, close enough that she can feel his warmth in her space, and his scent fills her lungs when she takes a deep breath.

“Yeah,” she nods. “I'm fine.”

“You ready to head out, then?”

Ginny’s mouth drops open. For someone doing his level best over the past two weeks to avoid being in the same space, asking if she's ready to leave—as if they're headed to the same place—throws her for a loop.

“I’m—”

“Hi,” Mike turns his attention to Jake and gives his best media smile. “I’m Mike. Sorry to interrupt. Hope you don't mind if I steal my girl. It’s been a long day.”

Jake looks dumbfounded for a moment before a look of resignation and something Ginny can't quite define washes over his face. “Yeah man, of course. Of course. Can't wait to see you all play in a few days. Gonna be a hell of a final season for you, I bet?”

Mike throws him a tight grin and a nod before he slips his arm around Ginny’s shoulder, so casually as if he'd rehearsed it before.

“It was nice to meet you, Ginny. Maybe I'll see you around sometime?”

“Maybe,” Ginny murmurs as she watches Jake blend into the rowdy bar crowd.

“Let's go,” Mike says, his breath hoppy and warm against her ear.

She lets him pull her through the crowd, lets him keep her close against his side as they make their way into the thick, February air of Arizona.

Once they're outside, Ginny pulls out of his embrace and shoves him for good measure.

“What the fuck was that about, Mike?”

He doesn't move very far when she shoves him, but he looks affronted nonetheless. “I was helping you out.”

“I didn't need your help. I was fine. You just drove away a man who could’ve been quite nice with your bullshit. Your girl? What the hell?”

“You looked like you were in need of rescue!” Mike insists.

Ginny clenches her fists and puts them on her hips. “No, I really didn't. You're not my brother, or my father, or anyone who needs to concern themselves with who I do or do not talk to.”

“I was only trying to help!” Mike exclaims. “The guy kept crowding you, and you laughed, but then you crossed your arms and moved back. So I thought maybe—”

“Why were you watching me?” Ginny interrupts his account of the evening.

Mike scratches his cheek and shrugs. “I look after everyone. It's what I do, rookie. I'm still the captain here until we end this season.”

Ginny rolls her eyes and does her best not to think about the announcement Mike made at the start of spring training, or what it'll be like to not count on him being there. For now, she maintains her anger at his high handedness.

“The ‘my girl’ thing was totally unnecessary.”

Mike swipes a hand down his face. “I didn't think we'd have some sort of work related emergency this late at night. Plus, I know men. We only back off when there’s a claim of ownership.”

“Ownership!”

Mike waves his hands immediately. “Not ownership. Definitely not ownership. Bad word choice. Please don't hit me with a feminista rant right now, I was only trying to help. And it looked like you were leaving anyway.”

“I was,” Ginny gripes. “Until Jake came over and I thought it'd be nice to talk to him for a while and flirt with some random stranger at a bar. I wasn't going to go home with him. Wouldn't want to end up on TMZ.”

Mike sighs and his shoulders sag. He points over his shoulder as he speaks. “I’m sorry I misread...whatever that was. If you want to go back, I can explain that—”

“That you lied for no reason? Yeah, no thanks.” Ginny exhales hard. The dense heat of the night, in addition to Mike’s behavior, leaves her agitated.

“Let me give you a ride home,” Mike says softly.

Ginny shakes her head and pulls her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. “I’m good. I'll get a Lyft.”

“Ginny, come on,” Mike murmurs and it's the first time he's called her that since that night outside of Boardner's.

“Isn't it out of your way?” she asks. He holds her gaze for a moment before he looks off and shakes his head.

“No, not at all.”

The ride to Ginny’s rental condo is silent. She spends her time taking in the muted Arizona landscape, vague shapes the only thing distinguishable in the darkness.

The silence gets heavier as they drive through town, but neither of them seems to know precisely what to say to not make it worse.

Fifteen interminable minutes later, Mike parks his SUV in front her unit and makes to get out of the car. Ginny stops him with a hand on his forearm for a beat before she pulls it away quickly.

“Thanks. You don't need to get out. Blip’s inside. I'll see you tomorrow, captain.”

Ginny hurries out of the car before he replies and takes the stairs two at a time. She slips inside the condo and shivers at the chill that takes over her.

Blip looks up from his spot on the couch and frowns in her direction.

“You're back early,” he says as he gets up from his perch and rounds the kitchen counter. He has his phone in one hand and a beer in the other.

“Hey G!” Evelyn's voice rings out from Blip’s phone and she can make out Evelyn's fuzzy face on the screen.

“Hey,” Ginny replies to them both as she toes off her shoes. “Didn't feel like staying.” Ginny sees Blip gearing up to say more, but she isn't in the mood to talk about the weird night or the awkward ride home. “I'm going to head to bed,” she says in a hurry. “Night Ev, Blip.”

She hurries through her nighttime routine, eager to put the whole thing behind her and focus on the season ahead.

She falls into a fitful sleep and wakes up groggy at 6:00 am when her alarm sounds. She shuts it off and scoots to the edge of the bed, going through her initial arm stretches to help shake away the stiffness caused by a poor night’s sleep.

She picks up her phone and sees a screen full of notifications, mostly from Ev.

Evelyn: _G, omg. What the hell? Girl, you've got some major explaining to do!_

Ginny frowns and clicks on the link. When the page opens on her phone, her stomach drops and her breath grows shallower.

**BARSTOOL SPORTS EXCLUSIVE**  
**GINNY BAKER AND MIKE LAWSON OFFICIALLY OUT AS A COUPLE! WHO HAD TODAY IN THE POOL?**

 


	2. truth and lies

Ginny tries not to panic as she scrolls through the rest of the article, complete with fuzzy pictures of her and Mike leaving the bar last night. There's even a photo of them outside, and from the angle it's been taken, they look cozy, but Ginny remembers it being a moment before she shoved him.

Barstool is a cesspool of bullshit, but it's a place where a certain segment of baseball bros get the news they think is reliable. Ginny worries her bottom lip with her teeth as she scrolls back up and looks at the time the story was posted.

She opens another browser window and pulls up TMZ, sending up a silent prayer that the story hasn't gained traction there.

“Fuck,” she breathes out when her eyes alight on one of the fuzzy pictures of she and Mike from the bar.

She whips the covers back and stands to pace beside the bed as she dials Evelyn.

“What do I do?” Ginny asks by way of greeting. “None of this is true. Mike was trying to be his version of chivalrous and fucked up, and now Barstool and TMZ have stories that we’re dating.”

Evelyn sighs. “It’s still so early here and I only caught half of that.”

“Shit.” Ginny grimaces and looks down at her phone. “Time zones. I'm sorry, Ev. I'm just kind of freaking out right now.”

“Okay,” Evelyn begins. Ginny hears the rustle of fabric come through the line and winces again at the early hour. “Calm down. This isn't a big deal. It's not like you were seen kissing. You haven't been kissing Mike, have you?”

“Ev.”

“Right, just checking. So, there was no kissing, just some fuzzy photos of Mike’s arm around your shoulder. Totally harmless. And I'm pretty sure no one will make a big deal out of this.”

“It's already on TMZ, Ev. And you know they actually do a surprisingly thorough job of vetting the things they post.”

Evelyn sighs. “Yeah. But still, not the end of the world. You'll just deny it, or let it lie, and it'll be fine. If it isn't true, then all of this will blow over soon.”

“It isn't true,” Ginny states through slightly clenched teeth. “At all. I'm not dating Mike. I’m barely speaking to Mike, how could I date him?”

“Oh,” Evelyn responds. “We have so much to discuss. But later, when it's not oh-dark-thirty.”

“Sorry again about the time, but thanks for letting me know what's going on. I'll take to you soon, Ev.”

“Later, G.”

Ginny ends the call and tosses her phone to the end of her bed. She lets her head fall into her hands for a moment before she gets off the bed and into her workout gear.

Once she's dressed, she picks up her phone, switches on the ‘do not disturb ' mode, and heads for the kitchen.

Blip is already perched at the breakfast nook when she gets there, a plate of gelatinous looking eggs and a cup of coffee in front of him. He lifts an eyebrow and Ginny shakes her head at him before she crosses to the refrigerator.

“It isn't true,” she says to the question she knows he wants to ask.

“I didn't think it was. Mike's an idiot. And he's selfish, but I don't think he's that much of an idiot.”

Ginny pauses taking the almond milk out and settles a look on Blip. “What'd he do to you?”

Blip shrugs. “Doesn't matter.”

“Obviously, it does. You two were like Frick and Frack. What happened?”

“Just leave it alone, G. We’ll figure it out, or we won't.”

Ginny sets the carton down on the counter harder than she intends to. “Fine. Then I don't want to hear anything about this situation either.”

Blip frowns and pushes away from the counter, picking up his still full plate and mug. “Had no intention of asking.” He turns and walks to the back of the condo, pushing open the glass sliding door that leads out to the balcony with his elbow.

Ginny grits her teeth, but goes back to make her smoothie before she heads to the gym at the ballpark.

The sun has just started to peek through the clouds as Ginny gets out of the car she’d called to bring her to the Peoria Sports Complex.

The clubhouse is empty as she makes her way through the main space to her little cubby at the end. She puts away her gear and heads off to the gym, headphones in place blasting a mix of Cardi B, SZA, and Rihanna.

She starts out with a run, looking to clear her head of the jumbled mess of the past eight or so hours. She's hit a grueling pace by the time anyone else joins her in the gym.

Sonny and Dusty get a cursory nod from her when they enter before she goes back to focusing on the invisible road in front of her. As she winds down, she realizes other team members have joined them. Most have taken up the weight machines, so she makes her way to the mats for some plyo and stretching.

“So, I'm just going to go ahead and ask,” Dusty says as he makes his way onto the mat beside Ginny. His voice is low and he looks nervous. “Just know whether or not it's true, we've got your back. But, Baker...Lawson? He's older than creation.”

Ginny fights back a grin and shakes her head. “It’s not true. Never been true. Will never be true.”

Dusty nods and bumps his shoulder against hers gently. “I know a lot of these idiots, and they might bug you about it because they love to gossip like little old ladies, but they'd have your back in a second, too, Baker. We all would. You're a Padre.”

Ginny jostles Dusty back with her shoulder and grins at him as he walks away. She goes back to stretching and focuses on her arm the way her PT told her to. She catalogs every ache, sound, and muscle contraction as she moves through the assigned exercises.

Ginny’s concentration takes a hit when the room gets quieter by a noticeable degree. She looks up to see Mike coming in the door, bag slung over his shoulder, knees ensconced in two sturdy looking braces. She turns her attention away in a hurry. Dusty might know the truth, and a few other Padres may believe her, but she's not going to give anyone any reason to believe she's conducting some sort of secret relationship with her captain.

It doesn't help matters when Mike sets his bag down at the corner of the mat and joins her there, lowering himself with an unbecoming grunt.

“What is it, Lawson?” Ginny asks once he settles. She sends her eyes around the room, but only a few people are paying attention to them. Her eyes alight on Blip for a moment before wondering when he had shown up.

“I'm sorry about last night,” he mutters. She schools her expression to keep the shock off her face. “I honestly didn't think anything of it. Was just... anyway I'm sorry. Didn't know it'd end up on TMZ.”

Ginny turns to look at him. “How’d you know about TMZ? Is that your regular morning reading?”

“Both Rachel and Amelia texted me this morning—very angrily by the way—with a link.”

Ginny ignores the pang that goes through her at the mention of both his wife and his ex.

“That can't be easy on Rachel. Thinking that you're cheating. I'll... issue a statement or something.” She's not comfortable with that idea lingering in the world, that she's contributing to someone's unhappiness in a way that's far too familiar. “Or, I guess get Amelia to do it even though I technically haven't hired her back.”

“What?” Mike asks, dumbfounded.

“I haven't asked Amelia back as my manager, so she probably—”

“Not that,” Mike interrupts. “About Rachel thinking I'm cheating. She has no reason to think that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ginny replies slowly. “Because the story is fake. I'm sure she made you clarify that for her, but—”

“I don't give a damn what Rachel thinks,” he interrupts again. “I'm not with Rachel. We finalized our divorce weeks ago. She's pissed because she thinks I'm preying on the first female pitcher in major league baseball.”

Ginny frowns and rolls her shoulders back. “Oh,” she says simply. “I thought you two were back together.”

“This is the most you've spoken to me in months. How would you know?” Mike says in a tone that he’s only used with her a handful of times. “Anyway,” he continues, “that's not the issue.  
Amelia seems to think it'll hurt your brand to be dating me, but also really hurt your brand if we appear to just be having a fling.”

Ginny processes the words but doesn't fully understand what he's saying. “So, what the hell does that mean?”

Mike leans back on his hands and stares at Ginny for such a long enough time that she gets nervous.

“You're not going to like what she's come up with.”

 


	3. the plan in the thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny finds out the plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the delays. I had plans to update on Friday, but my friend came into town and I had a blast with her out and about. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I have through chapter 6 completed so far, so updates should be regular. x

“Absolutely not.”

“It's a solid plan, Ginny.”

Ginny paces the length of her cubby while Amelia stands, hands in her pockets, pragmatic look on her face. Mike has taken up residence in her plush chair, chin in hand as he slowly swivels around in her seat.

“I can't believe you approve of this, Amelia. That you came up with this. It's absurd.”

Amelia’s eyebrows knit together and she takes a step closer to Ginny. “I do approve of this plan, but I didn't—”

“I'm actually pretty offended here, rookie,” Mike interrupts while he continues to spin in her chair. “You could do much worse.”

“Not likely,” Ginny mutters. She stops pacing and kicks at the base of her chair. “Will you stop spinning and take this seriously. I don't want to be involved, even in a fake way, with Mike. Let's just issue a statement.”

“There are photos and people coming out of the woodwork—”

“There are topless photos of me lingering around the internet, too. A photo of Mike with his arm around my shoulder is hardly damning.”

“You're right,” Amelia begins. “Technically, except some of your sponsors reached out and said that they don't want another scandal on their hands.”

That gives Ginny pause. “Another scandal?”

Amelia sighs. “We mitigated the last by presenting an alternative—a risky alternative—and it paid off. But, some of your sponsors aren't thrilled that you're in the limelight again for something else a little tawdry. If we change the story, we can control the narrative.”

Ginny pulls herself up to her full height and levels a look at Amelia. “Tawdry? Which sponsors? I'm not interested in being trotted out and led around like a good little one-trick pony. Or someone who can be easily manipulated by her sponsors at the word ‘boo.’ No one would give a damn about this if I were a man. And we both know that's total bullshit.”

Amelia lifts her hands in supplication. “No, it's not the ideal. And it's sexist as hell, to boot, I know. But, G, this is a solution to a problem before it becomes a problem. Mike's already announced that this will be his last season. MLB has already started scrambling to work out if this is a breach of the fraternization rules—which are stupid and mildly homophobic anyway—so if you two just pretend, just a little bit, the impact of this will greatly decrease.”

“No,” Ginny says firmly.

“Ginny, please, its—”

“Hey, Amelia?” Mike finally speaks as he stops spinning the chair. “Can you give us a minute, please?”

Amelia scowls at him but crosses to the cubby where her purse is and slings it over her shoulder. “Fine.” She leaves the room without a backward glance; the soft snick of the door closing behind her echoes through the room.

“Baker,” Mike starts. He plants his elbows on his knees as he looks up at her. “I know you're pissed about this whole thing—pissed at me. You have every right to be.”

“Thanks so much for the concession,” Ginny retorts.

Mike's brows furrow and his head dips for a brief moment before he turns his gaze back to her. The swirl of emotion in his hazel gaze sends a jolt of pain through Ginny's stomach. Hurt, anger, and something Ginny can't name all flash by in a moment before he puts on the game face Ginny’s come to recognize.

“I get this is the last thing you want to do, and it’s my fault you're in this situation. I'm sorry. Truly. Let me help you fix this.”

“Issue a statement, then.”

“We both know that won't work in your favor. Because you're right, this is sexist bullshit. And the only way I can see out of this, to make it less controversial is to pretend to date. Yeah, it'll ruffle the feathers of the powers that be for MLB, but we both know they prefer PR they can handle from every angle. We just have to be okay with being handled for a while.”

Ginny pinches her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger as she starts to pace once again.

“I hate this,” she says with a slight tremor in her voice. She clears her throat and tries again. “I hate this. This idiotic, ridiculous—if I can't control any part of—” Ginny stops and presses the heel of her hands against her eyes. She can feel the sting of tears start and she absolutely will not let Mike see her cry. “First it was about whether I deserved to be here, then about pictures from ages ago, then whether or not I could make the active roster after my injury, and now this. I just want to play baseball... or maybe I don't. Maybe it'd be better if I just hang this whole thing up and say fuck it.”

“I can't believe you'd even contemplate quitting,” Mike says softly.

Ginny scoffs. “Sure you can. I quit my first game. Not like the Padres need a gimmick hanging around.”

It should give her pleasure to see Mike wince, but it's not truly fair. That muggy July day when she overheard him say that feels like a lifetime ago.

He leans back in her chair and releases a deep sigh. “I can't tell you what to do, Baker. I'm just offering up what I have. If you decide to do this, then I'll do it. No one's going to force you to do anything. If you want me to issue a statement, I’ll do that, too. Whatever you want, rookie.”

The chair creaks as he stands and Ginny catches the slight tightening around his eyes as he starts to leave.

“Don't you hate this, too?” Ginny asks as he reaches the door. “Wouldn't it put a kink in your groupie plans since you and Rachel aren't together?”

Mike frowns so hard Ginny’s convinced he’ll be stuck that way forever. “No. I've had to do worse things than pretending to be in a relationship with you.” He shrugs and opens the door. “Let me know what you decide,” he says over his shoulder then leaves her to her solitude.

Ginny spends the day of practice utterly distracted by Mike’s words and the prospect of having to put on a charade just to be able to get the focus on something that wasn't real or anyone's business so she could do her job.

“Change the story, control the narrative,” kept playing on a loop in her head in the tune of Amelia’s voice.

The pitching coach pulls Ginny early, complaining that he doesn't know where her head’s at, but until she figures it out, and can send him five perfect sliders in a row, she's not welcome back in his pen.

Frustrated and angry, Ginny heads back to the clubhouse and packs up her gear. She pulls out her phone and scrolls to Ev’s name before her brain even catches up to what her fingers are doing.

“Hey!” Ev’s cheery face fills Ginny’s phone screen. “How goes it, G? How are you holding up through the rumor mill?”

Ginny can't stop the tears from filling her eyes and the look of panic on Ev’s face makes them spill onto her cheeks.

“Who do I need to kill?” Evelyn asks, her voice in full-on mom mode. “I will fly my ass go Arizona if I need to, Ginny Baker. You just say the word.”

“No,” Ginny replies as she swipes at her tears. “No one. Well, not really. I'm just... Ev, this isn't going away and now, it might get worse.”

She tells Evelyn about the plan, about Mike's willingness and her own reluctance.

“It doesn't make any sense,” Ginny states. “I mean it makes sense, but it makes me so fucking angry.”

“So are you going to do it?” Evelyn asks.

“What choice do I have?”

“I think you have a pretty big choice to make,” Evelyn returns. “You could not do any of it and let the chips fall where they may, but it sounds like Mike is willing to help, and it just might work. It might at least be worth a shot.”

“This just isn't fair, Ev.”

“I know honey. But women like you and me know this life is rarely fair, and it sucks. I know you just want to play baseball, but changing the world doesn't come easy, you know?”

Ginny smirks and wipes the rest of her errant tears. “Yeah, I know. Thanks for listening to me, and watching me cry.”

Evelyn laughs. “Anytime, G. I've always got your back, you know that.”

“Love you, Ev. I'll talk to you soon.”

“Love you, too. And please! I want to know how this all turns out.”

Ginny shakes her head and ends the FaceTime call. She takes a few moments to put herself back together. In the private bathroom off her cubby, she splashes water on her face and holds a damp towel over her eyes for a few minutes to alleviate some of the swelling. By the time she's done, her teammates are making their way back into the clubhouse in order to have lunch before they go back to running drills in the afternoon.

Ginny takes a deep breath and slowly releases it before she opens her door and makes her way to the team's main area. She finds Mike hunched over in his chair, his back to the room as Dusty, Sonny, and Blip try to one-up each other with ridiculous dance moves.

“Hey,” Ginny says. Mike's head snaps up in an instant. His frown lessens by a noticeable degree, though he's certainly not smiling.

“Hey,” he replies.

“Got a minute?” Mike nods at her question and she tips her head towards her private room. She turns before he agrees, but assumes he’ll follow her.

He catches up to her quickly in the hall. She can feel the heat of him, mixed with the earthy smell of the pitch and something that's so completely male and Mike.

Mike closes the door behind him choosing to stand there and not go any further into the room. Ginny turns a tight circle once before she launches into her speech.

“If we do this, we’re going to need ground rules that we make. Not Amelia. Not Oscar or Charlie or anyone else not standing in this room right now, okay?”

Mike nods but doesn't say anything else.

“The most important fact,” Ginny continues, “is that this doesn't change.” She motions between herself and Mike. “Whatever we need to do out in front of the cameras doesn't make its way into the clubhouse or out on the field. At all. Ever.”

“Fine.”

Ginny nods and puts on her game face. “So, how do we do this?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4: Ginny and Mike go on a real (fake!) date.


	4. fake date #1

Ginny's eyes flit around the mundane interior of the restaurant while Mike finishes up his order with their server.

She's sure it's not the usual quality Mike's used to on his dates, but Peoria doesn't have much to offer in the way of LA or San Diego overpriced dining. The napkin in her lap is too soft from multiple washes, the tablecloth is dull and fraying at the edges, and the place is packed with the non-Hollywood types.

It should put Ginny at ease, but for whatever reason, she's much more aware of the whispers and glances and not at all surreptitious photos being taken of the two of them.

She's exceedingly glad she doesn't have to check in on her own social media anymore.

“In order for this to work, rookie,” Mike says, his voice breaking into her reverie. “You need to try and look a little happier and not like you're about to walk into your death.”

Ginny eyes follow their disappearing waiter with a look of longing before they move back across the table to Mike.

He's not dressed up by any means, neither of them is, but it pains Ginny to admit--if only to herself--that casual Mike might actually be her favorite version.

He wears bespoke suits, and she's seen photos of him in a tux, but she'd never pick those versions over the one currently sitting across from her.

And it annoys her.

The situation they're in is hard enough without being unable to turn off the part of her that remains incredibly attracted to Mike, even while she's angry with him.

“Baker.”

She shakes her head and looks away. “No one’s really paying attention to us, and I don't really have anything to say, so.” She shrugs.

“Lots of people are looking,” Mike returns. He sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his broad chest, stretching the tight black tee even more than it already was. “And you not making eye contact with me is something people are going to eventually pick up on.”

Ginny looks up and locks eyes with Mike. He uncrosses his arms and leans into the table. “This is not my idea of a great time, either, rook.”

“Then why are we here?” she asks as she leans as well.

“A concession to your pitbull of a manager,” Mike replies. “She wanted us to go to some stuffy, overpriced place and get dressed up. Be glad I talked her out of it.”

Ginny sits back and slouches a little in her seat. “Why are you and Amelia at such odds anyway? I've never known you to be anything but charming where women who aren't me are concerned.”

She watches the need to quip back at her written over Mike’s face, but he doesn't follow through. Instead, he leans back in his seat and eyes her. “Amelia's not currently my biggest fan, but that hardly matters. How are you managing to get her to be so conciliatory to you?”

As a condition of Amelia’s return as Ginny’s manager, Ginny and Amelia mark certain boundaries that they reach so their best to honor. Ginny let too much of her life be dictated by Amelia because she didn't have the time. And while she appreciates everything Amelia does for her, some things she needs to learn to handle on her own.

It's a big learning curve—Ginny isn't quite used to handling so much of her day-to-day business anymore and Amelia isn't great about letting certain things go, but they're each trying.

“I made it clear that what happened last year couldn't happen again. I gave away too much control to her, and she took far too much for granted. We’re still working on it.”

“You have her practically jumping at your command, Baker. I'm rather impressed.”

Ginny rolls her eyes and is grateful to see their waiter headed back in their direction with their drinks.

“Hey, can we actually cancel our entrees?” Mike asks before the waiter departs. “Sorry, I'll still pay for them. We just decided we didn't feel like Italian tonight.”

“Of course, sir. It's no problem, and you don't need to worry about the check,” their server replies before he walks away.

“What are you doing?” Ginny asks as she watches Mike throw a twenty on the table.

He ignores her for a moment while he looks at his phone. When he appears satisfied with what he's found, he gets up from his seat and puts his phone in his back pocket. He walks around the table and holds a hand out to her. She takes it without much thought, sliding her rough, calloused hand into his even rougher one. She keeps her hand in his as she gets up from the table, and doesn't pull away when he slides his fingers through hers.

“This is all wrong, rook. I know what we need to do. Hopefully, Amelia won't mind.”

***  
An involuntary grin breaks across Ginny’s lips when Mike pulls up to the brightly colored, sci-fi themed mini-golf course.

“Wow,” Mike says as he turns off the engine in his truck. “You can smile. And here I thought you'd completely forgotten how to.”

Ginny doesn't like the way the chastisement settles in her chest. She has every right to be annoyed with Mike, but maybe she's been a little harsh with him.

He doesn't wait for a response, however, just sighs and gets out of the truck. He walks around to her side, opens the door, and offers her his hand again.

She takes it a bit more cautiously than before and tries to ignore the heat and size of his hand curled around her own.

They garner some attention as they make their way to the little office tucked beneath a big, glowing sign shaped like a UFO.

“It's Area 51 themed,” Mike grumbles.

When they walk up to the counter, the bored looking girl turns her attention away from her phone and perks up. Her eyes drift back and forth between the pair, eventually stopping on Ginny. She tilts her head and gives a shy smile.

“You're even prettier in person,” the young woman says softly.

Ginny laughs. “Thank you. So are you.”

The girl blushes to the roots of her light red hair and tucks her head for a moment before she looks back up.

“How many rounds do you want to play?” she asks before she turns and picks out two of the tallest clubs they have.

Ginny looks at Mike and he shrugs back at her.

“He can probably only handle losing to me once, so just one for now,” Ginny says.

The girl nods and asks them what color golf balls they prefer. She hands them a neon green and orange but flatly refuses to take the money that Mike offers up.

“It's on me,” she says proudly. “For my two favorite Padres.”

Mike leans into the window and gives her his most winning smile. When Ginny sees the girl go a little starry-eyed, she can't blame her. “Thank you, Candace. If you'd like, we’d be happy to sign something for you, or take a photo.”

Candace nods and runs out of the booth, her phone at the ready. She stands between Mike and Ginny and lifts her phone to take a selfie, but can't quite get them all in the shot.

“Let me,” Mike offers and takes her phone, snapping a few pictures in quick succession. He hands her phone back to her and Candace beams at him.

“Thanks so much! Have fun! If you want another round, just go ahead and play it.”

Ginny and Mike say a final farewell to Candace and hit the putting green.

“Want to make this game more interesting with a wager?” Mike asks as he motions for her to putt first.

Ginny tees up her neon green ball and takes a swing. The ball goes down the tattered fabric of the putt-putt green and stops inches from the hole.

She turns to him and smirks. “You sure you want to do that, old man?”

Mike nods, He tees up his ball, the pauses to look at her before he putts. “I do. If I win, I get something I want, and if you win, you get something you want.”

“Yes, I know how bets work. What are the specific stakes before I agree to anything?”

Mike clears his throat and looks away from her. He places the rickety club against his golf ball and swings. His ball lands just behind hers on the green. He shrugs and cuts his eyes back towards her.

“Well,” he begins, “when I win—-”

“Ha.”

“When I win, you have to tell me why you stopped talking to me last November.”

Ginny drags her teeth across her bottom lip. Ginny shakes her head. “That’s a lame bet,” she says quietly.

“Doesn’t matter. It's what I want. What do you want if you win?”

Ginny turns and walks down the little stretch of green that's covered with cardboard depictions of aliens and spaceships.

Ginny easily knocks her ball into the hole and retrieves it before she answers. “When I win, I want you to buy me a burger and tater tots. And a slice of pie.”

“That's it?

“Yep.”

“Setting the bar pretty low there, Baker. I'd planned to do that anyway. Well, not the pie too, that seems excessive.”

He putts once, then again, managing to sink the ball the second time. “Is that really all you want?”

“Yeah. All you want is for me to talk to you, so I don't see why mine is so strange.”

“Yeah, all I want is for you to talk to me.”

Ginny ignores the way her heart aches in her chest at his soft tone. She doesn't know how to respond to that, so she simply moves on to the second hole.

They play all nine rounds of the mini golf course twice, stopping only after Ginny’s stomach alerts them to her hunger.

“Good thing I won,” Ginny says. “I was seriously contemplating eating you on that last round.” She starts to blush almost the instant the words leave her mouth. “I didn't mean it like that.”

“That's too bad,” Mike replies with a wide, shit-eating grin. He grabs her hand and they walk down the block to the mostly deserted Smashburger.

They sidle up to the counter and look over the menu. Mike releases Ginny’s hand and brings his up to cup the back of neck. It's oddly comforting and arousing by equal measures.

He leans into her and whispers in her ear. “No pie on this menu, so I'll owe it to you.” The whiskers of his mustache tickle the outer rim of her ear.

“You can buy me a Butterfinger shake as penance,” she whispers back. She manages not to whimper in delight when his fingers tighten ever so slightly, and she barely manages not to curse when he releases her and steps up to the waiting cashier to order.

“Your usual burger is good?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Uh, I guess,” she replies. When Mike goes on to order her burger just like she likes it, she wonders how he knows.

“Okay. We’ll have two classic smashes, no pickles, cooked medium, please, although...the Arizona sounds good. Does your guacamole have cilantro in it?”

The cashier answers in the affirmative and Mike shakes his head. “Okay then, yeah, just the two classic smashes. An order of tots, an order of onion rings, and two Butterfinger milkshakes. For here.”

Mike pays and they make their way to a table by the window. The sun is gone from the sky and the moon casts an eerie glow, but it's still a really pretty night.

“How do you know my usual burger order?”

“You talked a lot last year, rookie. About lots of things,” Mike says with a tender smile. “I just listened.”

Ginny doesn't know how to respond, so she doesn't.

“This is probably not at all what Amelia had in mind,” Mike continues.

“Of course you'd be pleased. Seriously, what happened with you two?”

Mike stares at her for a moment before he speaks. “I’ll tell you about that if you tell me why you stopped talking to me.”

“Mike.”

“I'm serious, Ginny.” She tries not to react at the utterance of her name. “One day you're texting me back, then the next you're just not. Then my calls are going to voicemail, and Amelia's not answering, Blip isn't answering, and I didn't want to involve Evelyn, too.

“I'm not great with voicing certain things, but you cutting me out of your life felt pretty fucking shitty.”

“I'm sorry,” Ginny replies. “I didn't think you'd feel shitty.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“What?”

“You didn't think it'd make me feel shitty, so then why'd you do it?”

“I don't know.”

“Bullshit.”

“It's not bullshit.”

Mike grits his teeth. “You can spend 35 minutes talking about the lack of good grape soda from a fountain in Arizona, but you can't tell me why you just stopped returning my calls and texts? I don't believe you.”

Ginny leans away from him and crosses her arms. “Too bad, Mike. I don't know why. I just stopped, okay? I didn't feel like talking to you?”

“Why?”

“God, you are obnoxious. Can you just drop it, please? What does it matter? It's in the past. We can't change it.”

“It matters because—” Mike has to pause when their meals arrive. He waits until the server has left, lowers his voice further, and starts again. “It matters because you're still not talking to me. You barely even look at me.”

She stares pointedly at him, a small, triumphant smile on her face. “That better?”

He lets out a defeated sigh and turns to tuck into his burger. “Yeah, I guess that's better, Baker.”


	5. real (fake) kissing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Have an early extended chapter because the world sucks. Also, I WILL absolutely reply to your very sweet comments soon, I just suck a little. Sorry. Hope you enjoy this! x

Ginny avoids Mike the next day until she can’t.

She doesn’t need to go to BP, but she likes being out on the field when she doesn’t have to worry about warming up for a game. It's one of the times when the rest of the team is the least guarded around her, razzing and baiting one another, and letting Ginny join in on the fun. She also likes to see the early-bird spectators pressed up against the divider to see their favorites in action.

When she makes her way to the pitch, she walks past a few fans who yell out her name. She waves but doesn’t stop, wanting to make her way to where Skip is standing behind the net, watching Dusty swing. Mike stands on the opposite side of him, scowl in place as he watches on as well. Salvi, Stubbs, Blip, Livan, and a few of their new rookies are also standing around, waiting for their turn in the cage.

“You’re turning too much into the pitch,” Mike’s voice rings out from the other side of skip. “Bend your knees and follow through better. You’re batting like this is your first year here.”

Dusty drops his bat and gives Mike the finger. “I do better than Salvi.”

The men snicker and Mike chuckles.

“That's hardly something to brag about,” Ginny quips and the guys turn and look at her.

“You're the last person who should be talking, Baker,” Dusty replies before turning back to wait for another pitch.

“Baker’s just here to heckle us and cheer on her boyfriend,” Salvi yells across the way. The guys laugh and jeer good-naturedly.

Ginny stands up a little straighter and avoids looking at Mike even though she can feel his eyes on the side of her face. “Mike doesn't need cheering. He hardly ever misses.”

Apparently, her words are suggestive enough that the guys walk over to Mike and clap him on the back.

He shrugs them off. “Okay, you idiots. Calm down. But Baker is right, you know.”

“Oh look,” Stubbs says. “He’s already learned the cardinal rule of relationships--always agree.”

Mike ignores them all as he pulls on his gloves and gets ready to bat. Ginny’s seen Mike do that so many times and every time her body still reacts as if it were the first time.

She leaves Skip’s side to stand beside the cage as Mike readies himself to hit. He looks up at her, bat by his side, and gives her a devastating grin.

“You gonna wish me luck?” he says in a flirty tone she rarely hears him use towards her.

She ignores the flutter in her stomach and assumes a cocky pose she's seen Mike strike.

“Do you need luck?” she asks.

Mike shrugs and tips his bat in her direction. “Not really.”

“Then I'll save it for when you need it.”

He holds her eyes for a few seconds longer then nods. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“You guys are so gross,” Stubbs interjects. “Honestly, how did we not notice this before?”

“You're the only one who didn't have a clue, Stubbs.” Livan returns, causing the guys to start chattering amongst themselves.

Ginny catches Skip rolling his eyes while Mike simply ignores them and waits for his first pitch.

He hits three deep in a row, drawing loud cheers from the crowds near the cage. Skip lets him hit a few more before he pulls him, not wanting to tax their star before the big game.

Mike hands off his bat and whips off his helmet before he stalks over to Ginny. He's got a light sheen of sweat across his forehead and his eyes are more golden than green. He stops in front of her and narrows his gaze.

“Amelia requested to see us after I was done with BP. Did she text you?”

Ginny shakes her head and fights a frown. “No. Didn't know she was even here yet. I guess we should go see what she wants.”

“Mhmm.” Mike strips off his gloves and motions for Ginny to go.

She rolls her eyes and turns around to stalk off, but Mike’s big hand at the base of her neck, just like the night before, takes a bit of her ire away.

Mike's touch doesn't bother her. It does the opposite of bothering her, which is why she wants to desperately shake his grip, but she doesn't. Their relationship at the moment, especially after the night before, is as stable as kerosene soaked kindling near a blow torch.

Mike makes her feel too many things. That's always been an issue between the two of them, one that apparently doesn't plague Mike the same way.

When his big, rough fingers knead the side of her neck, it takes everything in her power not to give in to the urge to moan in deep satisfaction.

“You okay?” he asks and Ginny’s eyes snap open in an instant. She didn't realize she closed them.

“Yeah,” she says in a voice far too breathy to her own ears.

“Okay,” Mike replies like he doesn't believe her. His fingers dip into the hollow behind her ear—a spot until that very moment Ginny never considered arousing.

Ginny tries to hurry her pace to make it off the field so that she can pull out of Mike’s hold without raising any speculation about their status as a couple, but Mike isn't budging and keeps his cocky gait steady.

She should scold him because they're on the field, in plain sight of the early crowds, but she can't find it in herself to do so.

They continue to stroll, unhurriedly, and part of Ginny believes Mike is dragging his feet because he doesn't want to face Amelia.

“Are you afraid of Amelia?” Ginny gives voice to her errant thought.

“Of course,” he replies easily. “I'd be an idiot not to be. She's smart, direct, and ambitious. Not someone whose bad side I want to be on. Just like you, Baker.”

A warm feeling settles low in her stomach and she doesn't fight the grin that breaks without command.

“That's twice now you've smiled unprompted.”

She tilts her head to the side as much as his fingers at her neck will allow her. “Are you keeping track of all the times I smile?”

He nods. “I am. They happen so rarely these days. At least around me, in any case.”

Ginny swallows hard and sighs. “Come on. No more stalling. I'm sure Amelia's already unhappy you made her wait.”

Mike still has his hand around her neck when they make their way into the clubhouse and her private room.

Amelia is already there, as predicted, but an enormous smile graces her face instead of the ire Ginny expected to see. Ginny moves out of Mike's grasp and almost instantly wishes she hadn't.

“I don't know how you managed to pull this off,” Amelia begins, “but these are perfect.”

She hands Ginny her iPad. The TMZ site is up with a gallery of shots of the two of them. The photos make them look cozy, intimate. But not in a way that rings false. There are a few shots that show Mike with his arm slung around Ginny’s shoulder, and their heads bent close together.

“I wasn't thrilled to hear you went rogue,” Amelia says and cuts her eyes at Mike. “But I have to admit, these are better than shots at the restaurant. These feel real.”

“Yeah,” Mike breathes out. “Almost like it wasn't staged or anything.”

Amelia takes her iPad back. “Whatever. Good work. Maybe try to work in a kiss at your next outing. Which should be soon.”

“Nope,” Ginny replies immediately. “No way. First off, we have our first game of the year today. Mike doesn't need to be taking me around town. Besides, we can't go mini-golf every day. Second, no excessive PDA. Period. And I won't budge on that, Amelia.”

“I've been accommodating, Ginny,” Amelia starts, her tone sharp. “I’m letting the two of you set the tone, and trying my best to do better this time around, but you've got to budge a little.

“Mike hasn't exactly been circumspect in the past with his conquests. Maybe excluding me, but that's not the point.”

Ginny doesn't look in Mike's direction when Amelia tosses that bit of painful history out. She doesn't like remembering how Amelia knows such intimate details about Mike. “Then what is your point?” Ginny asks.

“Mike is a touchy, feely sort of guy. These pictures prove that. His hand on your neck when you walked in here proved that, too. I'm not asking you to make out in public, I'm just asking for a PG-rated kiss every once in awhile to throw to the vultures.”

“Sure,” Ginny throws up her hands in defeat. “I'm pretty much a joke at this point, why not seal my fate.”

Ginny turns and rips open the door before Amelia has a chance to say anything else. She charges down the hallway, refusing to break into a run, but close enough.

“Baker! Wait!” Mike yells as he follows her. She doesn't stop until his hand is on her arm, stopping her progress forward.

He moves to stand in front of her, grabs both of her arms and holds her steady. “Just breathe. Slowly. In and out on the count of five. Can you do that for me?”

Ginny hadn't noticed until he started talking that her chest was tight and her breathing shallow. She has a moment of fear as she can't quite catch her breath. Mike's grip tightens and his face sharpens before her eyes. “Listen to me, Baker. You're fine. Breathe in, I'll count. 1-2-3-4-5. And out. 1-2-3-4-5. Again.”

She doesn't know how long they stay that way, Mike gently squeezing her arms and counting her breaths. Her eyelashes feel tacky and wet, and she's surprised when she brings a hand up to her face that her fingers track through tears.

“How do you feel?” Mike asks in a gentle voice that she immediately hates.

“Stupid,” she replies. “You can let me go. I'm sorry you had to deal with this.”

Mike doesn't release her arms. Instead, he pulls her into an embrace, something he's only done once before. He's so warm and broad. His whole entire body makes her feel small and safe, and then not so safe at the same time if her heart has anything to do with it.

“I wish you'd let me be your friend again,” he whispers against her ear. “I'm not going to judge you for having panic attacks. You're one of the strongest people I know. I'm not here to hurt you, Ginny. I swear it.”

She wraps her arms around his waist and rubs her cheek softly against his chest. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” They stand like that in the deserted hallway for a few more moments before Mike lets his arms drop. He takes a step back and smirks at her. “You know, you're terrible for my ego. I don't think I've ever had a woman panic at the thought of kissing me.”

Ginny raps her knuckles against his chest and chuckles. “It's the idea of that monster that's taken over your face trying to kill me when we kiss.”

“God, Baker. You love this beard. Just admit it already. I know it probably has a starring role in all your dreams about me.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, the ones where I've tied you to a chair and I’m shaving your face. Seriously, do you remember your jawline anymore? It was such a nice jawline.”

“We’ll get back to your tying me up fantasies later because I'm more interested in knowing you've been studying my face. Not surprising, I wouldn't expect less from my number one fan.” Mike quips.

They stand, beaming at one another until for too long to be casual. Skip finds them a minute later in that same position.

“If you two are done making moon eyes at each other,” he starts gruffly, “I just called a team meeting in the clubhouse. Let's go.”

***

Skip keeps his speech to the team brief.

“As you all know,” Al starts, “this is Mike's final season.”

A chorus of cheers and heckling ring out through the room.

Al ignores them and continues. “And because of that, I expect you all to fight like hell this year. Give it everything you've got so that old-timer can go out on a high note. So don't wait until September to start playing like the team I know you are. Let's go, fellas. And lady.”

Ginny smirks and claps along with the rest of team before they scatter to finish getting ready, performing their last-minute rituals before they take the pitch.

Since it's not Ginny’ start, she takes to wandering the room, stopping at different clumps of players before she makes her way over to Mike, who is slowly putting on his shin guards.

“Why are you wandering aimlessly?” Mike asks. He quirks his lips looks up at her as he fastens the guards in place.

Ginny leans against his cubby and stares at his all-too-perfect sweep of dark eyelashes. She shakes her head and breaks his gaze. “Just can't believe this is your last, first game of spring training.”

“Mhmm,” he responds and moves to work on the other guard. “Are you getting sentimental on me, Baker?”

“What if I am?” Ginny replies and she's not quite sure why she says it. She sticks her hands in the pockets of the light jacket she has on and doesn't need. “I’ve never done major league spring training and already I can't imagine you not being here.”

“Which is strange seeing as how you weren't even talking to me a week ago.”

“I...I know.” Ginny heaves a sigh. “Still, if I'm here next year, I'll probably miss you.”

“Got plans to go elsewhere?”

She shakes her head, picks up Mike’s roll of KT tape and twirls it in her hand. “Who knows where I'll be. Maybe I'll get hurt again and they'll send me back down. Or maybe they'll get tired of bad publicity and send me back down. Both are possibilities.”

“Anything's possible, sure, but probable? You're not going anywhere unless you decide to. And if you do decide to go somewhere, just let me know, yeah?”

“Of course I'd let you know.”

“You say that,” he says as leans back in his chair. “But again, you weren't talking to me a week ago, so I'm saying, whether or not we’re still friends, you let me know if you're planning to hightail it out of San Diego.”

Mike stands from his chair with a groan and pulls at the neck of his high-performance tee. “If we win tonight, it's tradition to go out and get a drink as a team. Be prepared, rook.”

***

The Padres win the game against the Mariners 7-4, and as Mike predicted, tradition finds the team going back to their favorite Peoria haunt.

Mike's hand is on the small of her back as he walks in beside her. They're hit with a steady wall of sound between the music, the patrons, and the clinking of glasses. As soon as the team enters, the sound doubles as the bar erupts in cheers for them.

Ginny moves closer to Mike as more people wind their way through their ranks to say their congratulations with overly familiar gestures. A man stumbles over his feet as he makes his way towards Ginny, clearly deep into his cups.

Mike maneuvers himself between her and the drunken man and steers them in the opposite direction.

They make their way to the bar while the rest of the team scatters to various places. Blip and Sonny are at the end of the long oak bar watching Dusty and Salvi fight over who gets to karaoke first.

Mike's chest brushes against Ginny’s back as he places a hand on each side of the bar, effectively locking her in his embrace.

He wears a plaid shirt over another tight grey tee paired with a perfectly snug pair of jeans. She can feel the soft flannel against the back of her arms as he takes a step closer. The sharp, clean scent of soap and something deeply masculine surrounds her as much as his arms on the bar do.

“You want a beer or one of those raspberry things you've started to like?”

“It's still beer,” she says with a brief look over her shoulder. She wants to lean back into his arms but manages to stop herself. “Blame Evelyn for that.”

“You didn't answer my question,” he says close to her ear. She fights back a shiver and turns so she can see his profile.

“Just a Stella, old man. Will that appease you?”

He moves from behind her and Ginny instantly misses the solid wall of heat against her back. He turns toward her and leans against the bar. It's such a cocky, typical Mike pose. She's ashamed to admit it makes her heart flutter.

He flags down the bartender and orders two Stellas before turning back to her. He pushes away from the bar and stands, his eyes fixed on a spot over her shoulder. Ginny turns and sees Jake walking towards them, an amiable smile on his face.

“Hey,” Jakes says as he stops between the two of them. “It's good to see you again, Ginny.”

“Hey, Jake.”

“Great win the Padres had today. Quite the way to start a season. And your triple in the fourth was great, man.” Jake salutes Mike with his half-full beer bottle.

Mike crosses his arms but doesn't respond any other way. After a long moment of silence, Jake gets the hint and shrugs. “Anyway, it was good to see you. I can't wait to see you pitch this season.”

He nods again in Mike’s direction before he turns and walks back in the direction he came from.

Ginny levels Mike with an exasperated look. “He's a fan of yours. I would think you'd be nicer.”

The clunk of beer bottles on the bar interrupts the moment. Mike slides a $20 to the bartender before picking up a bottle and handing it to Ginny. “There’s just something about that guy I don't like.” He picks up his own bottle, clinks it against hers, then turns to lean back against the bar.

“I know,” she murmurs against the lip of the bottle. “That's why we’re in this whole mess, to begin with.”

“Come on, rookie,” Mike says as he leans in close. “You’re having an experience thousands of women would probably kill for.”

“I'm so glad your ego is still intact, Mike. You almost had me worried this afternoon.”

He eyes her over his beer bottle as he takes a long sip. “So.”

Ginny lifts an eyebrow and waits for him to continue. “So... what, Mike?”

His fingers tease the edge of the label on the beer bottle as his mouth opens and closes. Then opens again.

“Just spit it out,” Ginny says.

“What Amelia said--wants--we don't have to do anything you don't want to. I don't care if Amelia gets angry.”

“There's a but in that sentence, isn't there?”

“But,” Mike nods. “She has a point. Have you read People or anything?”

“I avoid Googling myself and all websites not related to box scores.”

Mike scoffs. “Well, your manager sends them to me. I suppose she believes I have some influence over you.”

“She clearly doesn't know how this relationship works.”

“Clearly.” Mike smiles a little before he clears his throat. “I promise I have your best interests at heart, Baker. What Amelia said earlier has some merit, but we certainly don't need to make a scene. You just need to look like you're a little more into me than you have been.”

“Me?” she asks incredulously. “What about you?”

“No one is questioning my performance, Baker. Naturally. I've been a model boyfriend.”

Ginny wants to deny that, but when she thinks over the past few days, she can only find examples of Mike being the ideal boyfriend.

“Fine,” she replies. She sets down her beer bottle on the bar hard enough that a little spills out if the top. She takes a step into Mike and places her palms flat against his chest. His tee is so soft beneath her hands. A certain delight goes through her when she sees Mike swallow hard and set his bottle down as well. “Is this better?”

“Depends on what you're going to do,” he quips. “Are you checking my heart or planning on groping me in public? Cause I've got to say that—”

Ginny cuts him off by brushing her lips across his. She takes a step closer and does it again, more deliberately. His lips are warm and dewy, and a little hoppy from the Stella.

“That public enough?” she whispers when she pulls away, her hands still planted on his chest.

Mike hitches a big shoulder. “I guess. But that barely qualifies as a kiss.”

She tries to push away from him, but he gently captures her wrists and keeps them in a loose grip before he leans down and settles his lips against hers.

Whoever Mike perfected his kissing technique with deserves a medal. Or a million dollars. Definitely a million dollars. A surge of heat tingles in Ginny’s fingers and want like she's never experienced settles in her belly. The kiss is chaste by all modern standards, but Mike’s mouth should be classified as a weapon.

His lips are soft and warm. He alternates the pressure of his kiss as he nips at her bottom lip with his teeth. He doesn't rush a moment of it. The kiss isn't about power or winning, but something deeper that has Ginny taking a step into him and darting her tongue across the seam of his lips.

Ginny opens her eyes slowly when she feels him pull back. If Mike didn't have a good grip on her, she thinks she'd probably swoon.

“See? Now that's a kiss, rookie.”

He rubs his thumbs across the inside of her wrists before he gently lets them go. Ginny's breathing in as heightened as if she'd just run five hard miles.

She takes a step back and picks up her beer with an unsteady hand. “I guess that was better.”

“You guess?” Mike asks with a laugh. “Okay then. I won't kiss you again until you ask me to.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I won't be asking for you to kiss me.”

Mike leans into her and runs his eyes across her face until they settle on her lips. When they part involuntarily, Mike chuckles.

“Whatever you say, Baker.”

 

 


	6. dinner and conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny can't stop thinking about that kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm *almost* caught up with reviews. Thank you so much for taking the time to read. I hope you continue to enjoy the story. x

For the next four days, Ginny has a very hard time putting that kiss out of her mind.

(It doesn't help that Amelia's over the moon at the very grainy, but obvious shot that gets put up on Barstool of them locking lips.)

While she works out, or shags balls in the outfield, or participates in a push-up challenge, or has a rare idle moment—it’s never far from her mind.

The fact that Mike hasn't kissed her again also isn't far from her mind.

He’s had plenty of opportunities—she's even gone out of her way to provide one or two, but he hasn't budged—hasn’t acted like it's even crossed his mind.

Ginny fears he seriously may not kiss her again unless she asks him to. And she can't-do that. She won't.

The day of her first start during spring training, Ginny wakes irritated and antsy. She gets up extra early and goes through her morning routine before Blip and Livan even crack an eye open. Ginny knows her fellow teammates hate day games, but she doesn't mind them as they usually leave more of the day available after the game.

When she gets to the sports complex, most of the lights are still off except for the hallway where Skip’s office is. Ginny wanders over that way and is unsurprised to see Al hunched over the desk, his eyes focused on whatever he's reading.

Ginny raps her knuckles against the door. “Hey Skip.”

He startles slightly but then breaks into a grin he reserves only for her. “Baker. You're extra early.”

“So are you,” she says as she walks into his office. She flops down into the seat tucked in beside his desk. “Nervous, I guess.”

Al frowns. “What’d your doctor say?”

“Everything is fine physically. But mentally, I'm all over the place. Having a hard time focusing today.”

“Hmm,” he says. “And why is that, you think?”

Ginny leans back in the chair and closes her eyes. “My head is full of junk between Amelia's regular reports and people sending me links to pictures of me and Mike. And then there's just all the other crap, too. My first spring training, Mike's last season, wondering if I'll wear out my arm again, the tension between Mike and Blip, and a little bit of everything else in between.”

“Jesus Baker,” Al sighs. “How many things in life do you think are under your control?”

“Nothing,” she replies. “But that doesn't stop me from worrying.”

“And what good does worrying do you?”

“None, but I can't just turn it off. Trust me. It's incredibly persistent.”

“Okay.” Al leans back and crosses his arms. “What’d your shrink say when you told her about this.”

Ginny clenches her teeth. “I haven't talked to her in longer than I care to admit. I've been... better. At least I thought I was. Until a couple of weeks ago, I was.”

“Or so you thought,” Al smirks.

“Or so I thought.”

“You know, kid, there's something I learned a long time ago that helped me out: you can only control what's right in front of you. For today, that's being out on the pitch, trusting Mike, and doing your part. Everything else that's noise, leave it alone for the day. Then go call that doc later tonight.”

Ginny tilts her head forward and grants Al a small smile. “Thanks, Skip.” She stands to leave his office but stops when Al calls her back.

“And maybe tell Mike about some of this, too. I know you're not really whatever, but I didn't miss how close you were last year versus how much you aren't this year. I just mostly pretend not to notice so no one asks me anything.”

Ginny laughs. “Noted.”

She walks through the main area of the clubhouse when she leaves Al’s office. It's still empty, the lights are on, but nothing looks disturbed.

“When did you get here, Baker?” Mike asks startling her. He's still in his street clothes: another soft looking pair of jeans that hint at the power of his thighs underneath, and a red-checkered plaid shirt. He's smiling at her and it annoys Ginny.

“What are you doing creeping around here?” she snarks.

Mike's eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “Uh, I'm not creeping, still very much a member of this team, thanks. I called, then texted you earlier to see if you wanted me to pick you up. When you didn't respond, I guessed you were either ignoring me, already here, or both.”

“I didn't get anything from you, I...Oh.” She holds up her phone and shows him the do not disturb feature is still on. “Didn't take it off DND.”

“Sure.”

Ginny sighs. “I'm not ignoring you. What good would it even do? I see you every day. It's basically impossible.”

Mike shrugs but doesn't look convinced. “Anyway, Kiki is gonna work on my back, and I know you have your routine. Come find me when you are ready to go over hitters.” he turns and walks towards his cubby, but Ginny's not keen on being dismissed.

“I wasn't ignoring you, Mike,” she says to his back. She watches him roll his shoulders, but he doesn't say anything. A moment later, he shrugs out of his shirt and tosses it aside negligently.

Ginny clears her throat as his fingers go to his belt, pulling the leather through the loops of his jeans. He unbuttons and unzips those as well before he steps out of them and is left in nothing but dark grey boxer briefs.

Ginny's mouth goes a little dry. She's seen Mike in compression shorts not much bigger than his current underwear, but she's never had quite such an uninhibited view.

Mike looks over his shoulder and gives her a knowing look. “If you wanted an eyeful, Baker, all you had to do was ask.”

Ginny lifts her chin and moves to stand in front of him. It's not a better solution, it's actually worse, why did she do that?

“I'm not ignoring you,” she states again, keeping her gaze on his face and not all the glorious things happening below his neck.

“And I said okay.”

“But you don't believe me.”

“No, not really.”

“Why not, Mike?” she asks, the frustration clear in her voice.

Mike reaches past her into his cubby for his raggedy sweatshirt that the team heckles him about. He pulls it on and zips it halfway before he speaks. “When’s the last time you voluntarily spoke to me on the phone or texted me back?”

Ginny opens her mouth to reply, but stops when she realizes it was a while ago.

Mike nods and reaches past her again for a soft pair of athletic shorts. “I don't think a week and a couple of days has turned us into friends or anything again. So, you ignoring my call isn't all that odd.”

“It's not like that,” she says quietly. “Truly, I don't... I'm not ignoring you... anymore.”

Mike gives her a sad smile and a shrug. “Find me when you're ready to go over hitters.” He walks away towards the conditioning rooms at the back of the facility, leaving her with a heavy sense of unease.

***  
The Padres easily win their game against the A’s with Ginny on the mound. She pitches flawlessly until the bottom of the fifth where she walks one player and misses an A’s player steal 2nd.

When she throws two balls during the sixth, Mike calls a timeout and trots out to the mound.

“How's your arm?” is the first thing he asks when he reaches her, mitt over his mouth.

“I'm fine,” she says curtly. “Skip’s not going to let me pitch the next inning anyway, so just let me finish.”

“I wasn't going to pull you. I actually do want to know if you're alright.”

She nods and holds her mitt out for the ball. They're too close to an easy win to let Mike get in her head on the pitch.

“Relax, Baker,” he says as he places the ball in her glove. “You've more than proven yourself. Whatever's throwing you off, even if it's me, just let it go.”

“It's not you,” she responds automatically, and it's mostly true. It's not entirely Mike, but it'd be a lie to say her mind hasn't wandered a little while he crouches behind home plate. “I'm fine. I've got this.”

“Good.” Mike gives her a sharp nod, then makes his way back to his spot. Ginny does her best to ignore how great he looks while he runs back.

He throws down the sign for a slider once he's back in place. Ginny nods, winds up, and throws a perfect strike solidly to Mike's glove. She strikes out the next two batters easily and heads off the pitch to the tune of a roaring crowd.

Ginny moves to the middle of the dugout bench and shrugs on her windbreaker, cordially receiving congratulations from her teammates. Her arm feels warm and well used, but not strained. Still, she's happy to get pulled by Skip before the final two innings.

Mike sits down beside her, having shed his chest guard and helmet. His entire right side is pressed up against her left. Sweat and spearmint, and the unmistakable smell of Mike take over her senses. He jostles her arm with his and offers her a piece of gum that she readily accepts.

“Nice to know my speeches still work on you.”

Ginny snorts. “You call that a speech? No, that was much too short to be one of your speeches. You just told me to get my head in the game, so I did.”

“You mean I can tell you what to do and you'll listen?”

“No,” Ginny laughs. “Well, maybe. Only on the pitch. Don't get any wild ideas.”

“Much too late for that,” he mutters so low that Ginny thinks she misheard him.

“What were you thinking about?” Mike asks.

Ginny’s not about to tell him the truth, but she can't quite lie effectively to him, so she splits the difference. “Just thinking about the other night. I had a good time.”

Mike presses his leg harder against hers and hums. “Yeah, me too. Want to have dinner tonight?”

She nods but doesn't take her eyes off the pitch. The last thing she really wants to do is go out and put on a show, but she guesses that's the nature of the beast. “Sure.”

“Okay, we’ll leave after the game. Tell your manager to cancel your car. I'll drive you.”

***

Confusion covers Ginny's face when they pull up outside of a house she's unfamiliar with. Mike presses a button beneath his rearview mirror and the garage door starts to slide open.

“Is this your house?” Ginny asks knowing full well it's a dumb question. “I mean, why are we at your house? I thought we were going to dinner.”

Mike shakes his head. “I'm cooking. Or would you prefer to go out and be treated a little like a sideshow attraction?”

“No, but... isn't that what we’re supposed to be doing?”

“Probably. We can go do that instead if you really want to.”

Ginny bites her bottom lip as she weighs the options. “No, I don't have the energy to put on a show right now.”

“Okay.” Mike pulls his truck into the garage and cuts the engine. He slides out and walks around to open Ginny’s door, offering up his hand to her. She doesn't need it, but she takes it anyway.

Mike's Arizona house is sprawling. The view of the desert over his striking blue pool is incredible. Ginny's never been to Mike's La Jolla home but has heard plenty of tales.

“This place is incredible,” she remarks as she slips out of her sneakers. The tile is cool even against her socked feet.

“Thanks,” Mike says. He walks away from her, leaving her to wander the space. Ginny eventually follows and finds him in the kitchen taking items out of the fridge.

“What are we having?”

“Shrimp tacos.”

“I love shrimp tacos.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You've been planning this,” Ginny states. Mike shrugs and turns away from her to reach back into the fridge. “What if we'd lost today?”

“Could you not have had something you like to eat for dinner if we lost?”

“Would you still have asked me to dinner if we lost?”

Mike tilts his head and nods. “I asked you to dinner before we won. It wouldn't have mattered either way.”

Ginny doesn't know why it matters so much, but her heart thumps a little harder in her chest when he says that, even if it doesn't make sense to her. “Okay, what can I do to help?”

“Do you cook?” Mike asks skeptically.

“No, but I'm okay at following directions.”

“Yeah, I don't think so, rook, but nice try. Go explore. I know you probably want to snoop.”

Ginny manages not to stick her tongue out at him, but it's a near thing.

“Any place I shouldn't go?” She asks as she turns slowly in the kitchen. What she knows about interior design and decor she's learned what in passing from HGTV, but even her untrained eye knows Mike's space is impressive.

“Maybe not into the rooms downstairs,” he replies. “Those belong to Foster and Hueller, the rookie knuckleheads who are never here, and will probably leave spring training with the clap.”

A laugh escapes Ginny before she can stop it. She claps a hand over her mouth as her eyes alight on Mike. He shrugs, but his smile matches hers.

She shakes her head and leaves the kitchen to go explore Mike’s house. It's filled with warm, rich colors and obviously expensive furnishings, but nothing about it seems personal. There are few items in the living room that speak to anything other than baseball. The rec space holds a nice array of games including a pool table and foosball table as well.

Instead of heading up the stairs like she wants, she pushes open the sliding glass door and heads out to Mike’s deck. The view of the desert is even better standing out there unimpeded by the trappings of the house.

With little but the view across the crystal clear water and the muted grays starting to consume the blue of the sky, Ginny’s mind wanders to Mike and his lips on hers.

She doesn't know how to ask him why he hasn't kissed her again. Baseball has taken up the majority of their time, so going on public dates have been a low priority. And then Mike offering up dinner gave her a moment of hope for a repeat performance... until they ended up at his house instead of out around town. No cameras to play up how into each other they are nearby.

“Do you want to eat out here?” Mike asks. He has two long neck beer bottles in one hand and a covered plate in the other.

“Sure.” She walks over and takes the items from his hands. Mike goes back inside and returns with more dishes two more times before they settle at the high top table.

She doesn't hesitate to fill her plate with the fragrant mixture of shrimp and peppers, rice and beans, and the slaw that Mike prepared.

“This is awfully fancy,” she remarks as she pushes a dish towards him and reaches for the warm tortillas. “Where did you learn to do all of this?”

Mike slides a bowl of guacamole across the table. “I made that so, it's cilantro free,” he says before he spoons food onto his own plate. “I learned to cook at a young age. My mom wasn't exactly the best at doing domestic things and she would get in these moods every so often that would keep her from being able to accomplish a lot. I learned so neither of us would go hungry. Then I perfected it when I figured out it’s a good way to impress a woman enough that she might sleep with you.”

“Gross,” Ginny replies without any heat. Mike smirks at her before he takes a big bite of his assembled taco.

They eat in silence, passing plates and condiments back and forth until the dishes are well and empty, and Mike’s produced another round of beer.

“You played really well today,” Mike says. His face is turned up to the night sky as the final bit of daylight ekes away.

“Thanks,” she replies. Her eyes trace his tongue as it darts out across his bottom lip. She shifts in her seat and turns her gaze out to the desert.

“I'm going to miss catching for you regularly.”

Ginny turns back to him with a frown. “Why won't you be catching for me regularly?”

“Got to start handing the reins over to Livan per Oscar and Al.”

Ginny hates the unsettled feeling that blooms in her stomach. “We have the rest of spring training and over 100 more games before you're through. Isn't it a little early to think about that?”

“They don't want it to look bad that I'm always catching for my girlfriend.”

Ginny sets the beer bottle down with a solid clunk. “Did they say that?”

“No,” Mike replies. “But they probably thought it. Anyway, I do have to start turning this club over to the leadership of someone else. I want it to be Blip, but that might be harder than I thought.”

“What happened between you two?”

“You ready to tell me why you stopped talking to me last November?”

Ginny sighs and crosses her arms. “I didn't want to be a burden. You and Rachel were trying to work out whatever and you left, Mike. You left and went to LA. It was pretty clear to me you had other things to worry about.”

“Yeah, that’s why I called you all the time--cause I wasn't worried about you, and didn't want to make sure you were okay.”

“What do you want me to say, Mike?”

“I just want to know why it was so simple for you to stop talking to me? I was worried, Ginny. Do you really not get that?”

“I just thought it would be easier,” she says quietly.

“For who?”

She motions between them. “For the two of us. So that we could both move on with our lives without feeling guilty.”

Mike clears his throat and stands. He begins to stack dishes and ignores Ginny when she stands to help him. They quietly clear the table and stack dishes in the dishwasher.

“Leave the rest,” Mike directs. “I'll deal with it later. Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

Ginny nods and grabs her things before she heads out to the garage with Mike.

The ride to her house is quiet and tense, nothing at all like the ride that started their evening.

“I'm sorry I stopped answering your calls and texts,” Ginny says when Mike’s truck idles outside of her condo. “I really didn't think you'd... care.”

“Why would you think that? How could you think that? How could you ever get the impression that I don't deeply care about you?”

“Because you left,” she remarks. “What else was I supposed to think?”

“You could've answered when I called and asked. Or texted me back and asked. You could've done something other than what you did.”

“I'm sorry,” Ginny states simply not knowing what else there is to say. On impulse, she leans over and brushes her lips across his cheek. He looks as stunned as she feels when she sits back. “I am,” she says as she moves away. “You’re doing me a favor now and I treated you pretty poorly at the end of the year. I'm grateful that you're still willing to help me out, Mike. It means a lot.”

A flicker of hurt flies across his face before he turns to look out of the window. “We have a day game tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” She unbuckles her seatbelt and opens the door, pausing before she steps out. “Thank you for dinner. I had a really nice time.”

She leaves his truck and makes her way up the stairs to her condo, pausing in the door to watch him drive away.

 

 


	7. misgivings and misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kisses and misunderstandings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know that this will help anyone today, but it's been a rough one, and I hope that this small bit of happy (through some angst) can brighten your day. x

“I kind of agree with Mike on this one, G.”

“Et Tu, Ev.” Ginny pulls a face and Evelyn laughs heavily on the other side of their FaceTime.

“You know I adore you, but you and Blip are so similar in a lot of ways when you get hurt by someone you care deeply about. And you both reacted similarly where Mike is concerned.”

Ev tells Ginny Blip’s shoddy reasoning behind his coolness to Mike and makes her examine her own feelings toward the Padres vet.

“Mike is a disaster, to be sure,” Ev continues. “But that man doesn't care in a casual way. And people would've been blind not to notice how close you got. Blip saw it and worried over it by the time it got to be too obvious.”

“It was obvious?”

“Ginny.”

“Ugh.” Ginny flops back on her bed. “I thought Mike was getting back together with Rachel. He left for LA, and it felt inevitable. I called him once, you know? Rachel answered. It was such an awkward couple of minutes. I told her not to tell Mike I called—I guess she didn't—I thought it'd be easier to just let that... infatuation go. After we almost kissed last September, I—”

“WHAT!” Evelyn’s face gets fuzzy and the screen freezes for a moment before her booming voice comes back over the line. “How could you not tell me this? Spill. Now. Tell me how all of this came to be.”

Ginny groans. “I have to go to practice and try to fix this.”

“You’re not getting out of this, cruel woman. Talk fast.”

Ginny relates the story in full, knowing better than to try to edit or parse information because Evelyn would know—she always knows.

“Good God, girl. And the man is still torn up about it. And to think, he offered himself up as boyfriend material anyway. I wonder if he came up with the whole plan.”

“Doubtful,” Ginny starts. “This has Amelia written all over it.”

Evelyn hums. “You think so? If it were me, I wouldn't be too keen on setting up my ex with my client, but maybe you're right. This feels very much like a Mike thing to do, though.”

Ginny levers herself off the bed and shrugs. “Either way, I'm in it so I've got to play the part. And I should probably try to do better by Mike.”

Evelyn nods and smiles brightly. “That's a good plan, I think. Quick question?”

“Shoot.”

“How great of a kisser is Mike? Because I have a theory that—”

“Yeah, I'm hanging up on you now,” Ginny interrupts.

“Don't you dare, Ginny Baker! This is a serious question! Because Mike’s overall lip quality and swagger lead me to believe he's pretty damn good.”

“I'm not answering that!” Ginny exclaims. “And we’ve only kissed the one time. It's not like I have a broad field of comparison.”

“Then why are you blushing?”

“Goodbye, Ev.”

“No Ginny, wait—”

Ginny disconnects the video call and moves to turn on DND to stem the tide of angry texts, but doesn't do it. Mike hasn't called or texted, but then again, neither has she.

She swipes away at the rapid-fire texts from Ev and opens up her text chat with Mike, where one line text sits from earlier in the week. Before that, a single ‘Merry Christmas’ one is there—both from him.

She swallows hard and sends her fingers flying across the keys—typing, then deleting, then trying again. She finally settles on something generic.

**Ginny: what time are you planning on getting to the clubhouse today?**

_**Mike: don't know. I'm not starting today. Probably by 11.** _

**Ginny: can you pick me up on the way?**

No response comes for a few minutes... just the three gray dots surrounded by a text bubble.

**_Mike:_ sure _._**

Ginny releases a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

**Ginny: thanks**

She moves through her morning routine at her usual pace, leaving herself plenty of time before Mike comes to pick her up to decide what to say to him.

When she goes into the kitchen, both Blip and Livan are up and having breakfast.

“Morning,” she says lowly, well acquainted with Livan’s propensity for late nights and hangovers.

“Morning, Mami.” He nods and points his fork towards the pan. “I made extra eggs if you want some.”

“Thanks.”

Blip leans back in his seat with a cup of coffee and his phone in one hand. He acknowledges Ginny with a brief nod before he returns to whatever has him entertained on the screen.

She makes her way over to the cabinet and grabs a plate, dishing out the still warm eggs onto it. She takes a loaf of bread out of the breadbox on the counter and slides two pieces into the toaster.

Livan finishes up in a hurry, puts his plate in the dishwasher, gives Ginny a one-armed hug, then heads out with a “good luck” thrown over his shoulder.

“So,” Blip says as soon as the door shuts after Livan. “Is this thing with Mike really fake?”

Ginny unscrews the hot sauce left on the counter and shakes a healthy measure on top of her eggs before pushing the plunger down on the toaster.

“Yes, you know it is. Why?”

Blip slides his phone across the kitchen counter. Just Jared is up in his browser, displaying a photo of Ginny and Mike kissing at the bar with an inset photo of Ginny kissing Mike’s cheek from the night before.

She picks up the phone and enlarges the inset photo. It's grainy, but still obviously the two of them. Mike's eyes are closed, and even though their topic of conversation isn't clear, they look intimate.

“You know what we’re doing and why.” Ginny slides Blip’s phone back to him. “Why is it a surprise that we’re on gossip sites looking like a couple?”

“Because I know Mike. And I know you. And this feels a little too real, but Ginny, you know it's not. Evelyn is so excited about the prospect of you two really being together. And I just feel like it's going to end badly for the two of you.”

Ginny's phone buzzes on the counter.

_**Mike: I'm leaving in five. You want** _ _**a coffee from that place?** _

**Ginny: yes, please. Thank you.**

“I can take care of myself. I know exactly what this is. Whatever you've got going on with Mike, please fix it. Don't drag me in the middle of your mess.”

The toast pops up from the toaster just as Ginny turns away from Blip.

“Fine.” Blip pushes away from the breakfast nook and walks into the kitchen to put his dishes in the dishwasher. “I'm just worried about you. I'm worried about Mike, too, but if you're not, then I guess I don't need to be.”

Ginny sighs and tucks into her food after Blip leaves. She finishes a few minutes before Mike texts that he's downstairs.

She grabs her backpack and makes her way to Mike’s truck, doing her best to inconspicuously look for any paparazzi. He's in the same spot he was the night before, if there's a pap waiting now, they're awfully good at hiding.

When she settles in beside him, Mike hands her a large paper cup. Almond and mocha mingle in the air before she takes a sip and hums happily. “Thank you, I needed this.”

“Sure thing, Baker,” he replies. His tone isn't overly warm, but not quite as stilted as the night before. She sets her cup in the middle console and leans closer to him, brushing her lips against his cheek, just like she did the previous evening, except this time her lips linger for a few moments longer.

Mike’s lips turn down just enough for Ginny to see before he resumes a neutral mien. “What was that for?”

Ginny shrugs. “A greeting, I guess. A thank you. Take your pick.”

“Does this have anything to do with the picture from last night?”

Ginny leans away from him. “How do you know about that?”

“I get daily email roundups from your manager. She's very keen for me to know every single thing that could affect you by us doing this.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Is that why you did it? Because there might be someone with a long lens waiting for a shot? I checked when I drove up. Unless they're outfitted in spectacular camouflage, there's no one waiting out there. No worries, there's no need to put on a show.”

A sharp pain ricochets through Ginny’s chest. “No, that's not why I did it.”

Mike picks up his coffee cup and takes a sip, eyeing her over the rim. “Then why did you do it?”

“I told you,” she begins, “to say thank you. And because...I just wanted to. I guess. I don't know. It's not a big deal Mike. It's just a kiss on the cheek.”

“‘And here I thought it might mean something else,” he says gruffly. He puts the car in gear and pulls off from her condo.

Silence falls between them for a long minute until Ginny plucks up the courage to speak. “I am really sorry, Mike. For cutting you out of my life and thinking that you wouldn't care. I promise I won't do it again, or at least, I promise I'll do my best to talk to you first.”

He grimaces and gives a sharp nod. “You already said sorry. You don't have to keep doing it.”

“It feels like I do until you forgive me.”

When he reaches a red light, he slowly turns his head towards her. “I forgive you, Baker. I'm not after groveling or any kind of repeated apology. I don't need it.”

“Then what do you need?”

The light turns green and Mike slowly pulls off into the steady traffic. “I want you to trust me like you did before, or even more than you did before. I... this game is ending for me soon, and I've already lost a lot. I'd rather not lose you, too.”

Ginny fights to keep the tears that prick her eyes from sliding down her cheeks. “I do trust you, Mike. I wouldn't sign on to this plan with just anyone.”

His hands tighten on the steering wheel, but he doesn't reply, but they manage to finish the drive to the sports complex in a less charged silence.

He parks in the designated player's lot and walks around the truck to open Ginny’s door. Even though she's halfway out when he gets there, he still offers his hand which she readily accepts.

He twines his fingers with hers and brings them up to his lips before he closes the door and they make their way inside the sports center.

***

  
The Padres lose—painfully—to the Diamondbacks.

As they enter back into the clubhouse, cursing and other sounds of discontent echo around the room. Though vastly improved, Livan lacks Mike's deep knowledge of hitters and his connection to every pitcher on staff.

The blame can't be placed solely on Livan's shoulders, however. Mike and Blip were the only two batters to manage to score runs for the Padres with a home run each. Ginny manages a double, but Salvi’s strikeout doesn't allow her to make it over home plate.

Ginny takes her time disrobing and showering. She wants to avoid any invites out, not at all in the mood to drink in commiseration.

A sharp knock comes at her door as she’s pulling on a long sleeve Nike zip-up.

“Come in.”

The door opens and Mike steps through, bag slung over his shoulder and an exquisite lilac button down on.

“I found a pie shop,” he says by way of greeting. “You up for it?”

She nods and picks up her own backpack. “Just me and you?”

“Yep.”

Lulu’s pie shop isn’t busy at all when Mike pushes the door open and waits for her to enter. The smell of caramel, cinnamon, and butter flood Ginny’s senses and make her mouth water in anticipation. It's on the tip of her tongue to ask how Mike found the place, but she gets too caught up in the pie selections to bother at the moment.

They sit at the long, dark counter and look over the board and the rack of cooling pies below it.

“Welcome to Lulu’s,” a graying, heavy set woman with a bright smile says. She places a menu before each of them. “Can I get you some coffee? Tea? We’ve also got wine and beer as well.”

“Just a water for me,” Ginny replies and Mike echoes her statement. “How’d you find this place?”

“You know I do know how to work the internet, right?”

Ginny rolls her eyes and turns back to the menu options.

When the woman behind the counter returns with their water, Ginny and Mike place their orders: an apple caramel slice for Mike and chocolate chess slice for Ginny.

“I'm going to steal a piece of your pie when you get it,” Ginny smirks at him. “That was my second choice.”

“You're not stealing a piece of my pie, Baker.”

“I'll share mine with you.”

His grin turns dirty and Ginny can feel heat crawling up her neck. “Tempting, truly, but I ordered the pie I wanted.”

“So did I, I just want a taste, not the whole slice.”

“No.”

“You're not nice.”

Mike's smile broadens and he shrugs. Ginny sits back with an exaggerated sigh. Mike's expression doesn't budge.

“Are the powers that be going to have you start tomorrow?”

“No,” Mike's smile dims. “Livan needs to learn and the team needs to learn.”

“And who's going to lead? People still default to you, Mike when things aren't going well.”

“I know, but I watched Blip today. He can do it. He's starting to. You guys won't need me soon.”

They pause as their pie is served to them. Two hearty pieces complete with whipped cream on the side.

Ginny automatically reaches her fork towards Mike’s plate to have it pushed away.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” he laughs. “I think I share enough food with you. I want to enjoy this entire slice alone.”

Ginny pouts and tucks into her own delicious slice. She ignores Mike’s sounds of appreciation as best as she can.

“You should've gotten a slice of this yourself,” he says around a forkful. “This is excellent apple pie.”

Ginny ignores him and takes another bite of her pie. When she feels a nudge at her arm, she looks over to see Mike holding his fork with a bit of gooey apple caramel goodness on the end.

“Here.”

Ginny doesn't hesitate to lean in and wrap her lips around the tines of the fork and get the piece that he's offering.

She briefly closes her eyes in appreciation as the piece all but melts happily in her mouth. When she opens her eyes, Mike's own are locked on hers and her belly quivers in a familiar way.

“Thank you.”

Mike clears his throat and nods. “You’re welcome.”

“Want to try mine?” Before he can answer, Ginny has a piece on her fork and it's heading towards Mike's mouth.

She feeds him the piece and watches his face for a reaction. “That's really good, too.”

Without thought, Ginny brings her thumb up to the side of Mike's lip where a tiny bit of chocolate sits.

Mike captures her wrist in a gentle grip. He licks away the crumb on the tip of her thumb and a shiver runs through her body.

A flicker of movement catches Ginny’s eye at the front window and she knows they have paparazzi company.

She makes a split decision and leans into Mike. “Kiss me,” she whispers against his lips and is pleased when he obliges.

This kiss is nothing like the one before. This kiss ignites every nerve ending from her toes to the follicles of her hair. Mike isn't tentative, nor does he keep his tongue to himself.

His beard and mustache tickle, but in a way that keeps her in the moment. He tastes sweet and salty and his soft lips chase after the taste of chocolate on her own.

He drops her wrist and winds his arm around her waist to pull her closer. She's on the edge of her seat when he does this, but she doesn't mind. She won’t stop kissing him over this minor discomfort.

When he breaks the kiss, he sends his lips across her chin and scrapes his teeth down the column of her neck. Her nipples perk beneath the thin layer of lycra and she squeezes her thighs together.

When his eyes catch hers, they're hazy and unfocused, a full shade darker than the usual blue-green-brown mix.

“Ginny, are you—”

An unmistakable flash lights up the front window and stops whatever Mike intends to say. He looks over his shoulder before he turns back to her, a frown marring his features. “Did you know they were there?”

Ginny doesn't like the feeling that settles over her. Like she's been caught doing something wrong, but seeing Mike's expression shutter and feeling him pull away from her makes her feel guilty.

“Yes,” she replies even though it's unnecessary.

“Right.” His tone is short. He picks up his fork and scrapes it across the almost empty plate. “Right.”

“Mike,” she whispers and places a hand on his arm. He pushes his plate away and stands. He grabs his wallet out of his back pocket and tosses a twenty dollar bill onto the counter.

“Let's go.” His voice is sharp. He doesn't wait for her or reach for her hand. He walks quickly out of the pie shop and pastes on a smile that's all for show.

He opens the passenger side door and waits for her to climb in, closing it with a decided click once she's settled.

He gets in the car and ducks his head against the flash from the cameras. For only 3 paps, they sure are well armed. He pulls out of the parking lot and checks the rearview mirror to be sure that no one is following them.

“Mike,” Ginny tries again, but she's not sure where to start. “I'm sorry.”

His shrug is negligent, but she's never seen so much tension cover his features before. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

“We both know that's not true. I don't want you to think that—”

“We’re supposed to be putting on a show,” he interrupts. “So we put on a show. You did what we had to do. I know Amelia will be thrilled.”

A lump that lodges itself in Ginny’s throat. “That's not it, Mike. I...yes, I saw that paparazzi, but—”

She stops talking and looks down at her hands. She doesn't know what, but all she knows for sure--she wanted to feel Mike’s lips against hers. She wanted to get lost in him again. She wanted all the wonderful things he makes her feel. Can she say that to him?

Mike’s truck comes to a stop before she has a chance to put anything in words. They're back outside her condo.

“Can we please talk about this?” she asks.

“Nothing to talk about,” he replies gruffly. “Nothing happened except what needed to happen. We’re both on the same page. No need to get bent out of shape.”

The hollow in Ginny’s chest yawns wider. “Okay.” She opens the door and steps out, grabbing her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder. “Thanks for the pie,” she says over her shoulder and shuts the door.

Mike doesn't drive off until she's inside, but he doesn't wait for her to turn around before he pulls away.

Blip and Livan are both on the couch, a Madden video game up on the huge screen in front of them. She ducks out of the room before either of them can engage her in conversation and pulls out her phone.

She slams her bag to the ground and hurriedly types out a message.

Ginny: are you busy?

Her phone lights up with Evelyn's name almost a moment after she sends the text.

“What’s going on?” Evelyn asks, her voice tinny and far away.

“I think I screwed up.” Ginny paces in front of her bed. “Big time, and I don't know how to fix it.”

“Tell me.”

So Ginny relates the entire evening and previous night to Evelyn. When she's done, she's on the verge of tears.

“Oh, G,” Evelyn sighs. “Honey, you and Mike never talked about what happened last year, and now you're pretending, and figuring out you're not so good at the pretending part, huh?”

“Please don't tell Blip,” Ginny mutters. “He’ll just say I told you so.”

“Hmm. I think you and Mike should actually talk to one another.”

“How?”

Evelyn's exasperation is palpable through the phone. “Just finally say how you feel.”

“I don't know how I feel!” Ginny exclaims. “I just know that I wanted to kiss him. And that I like talking to him. And that it's so easy to be around him.”

“Ginny.”

“We can't, Ev.” She sits down on the edge of her bed and sighs. “We just can't. This wasn't supposed to be real.”

“Well, now it is. Deal with it. Go, right now and tell Mike. I'm serious. You can't let this fester. You'll just drive yourself crazy.” Ginny hears a crash through the line and Evelyn’s muted curse. “Just had a server break a stack of plates, G, so I've gotta go, but I'm serious. Go. Right now. It'll make you feel better.”

The line goes quiet and Ginny flops back onto the bed. She throws an arm over her face and sinks into a moment of worry. What if Mike doesn't feel the same way? What if he’s just annoyed to have his name involved with hers? What if she shows up and makes an ass of herself?

“Only one way to find out.”

She levers off the bed and reaches into her bag for her wallet.

“Blip, can I borrow your car?” she asks blocking he and Livan’s view of the screen.

They both grumble and toss empty burger wrappers at her. “Go,” Blip points towards the kitchen. “And don't mess up that car, it's just a rental. Keys are by the door.”

“Thanks.”

She doesn't speed to Mike’s house, but she wants to. It only takes fifteen minutes to get there, but to her, it feels like an eternity.

She parks behind his truck, which is in the driveway instead of the garage, but she doesn't think about that until later.

The lights blaze through the open curtains when she reaches the front door, illuminating the front porch as well.

Ginny lifts her hand to knock when she catches movement through the glass. Amelia stands behind the couch wearing Mike's raggedy sweatshirt. Her feet are bare and her hair is piled in a messy, haphazard way on her head.

She leans down and reaches over Mike. Whatever happens next, Ginny doesn't see because she moves away from the window and stares blankly at the front door.

She lifts her hand to knock again but doesn't follow through. There's no point.

Epic kiss or not, what she and Mike are sharing isn't real. There's no need for theatrics or some overwrought confession.

She takes out her phone and types a message as she heads back to Blip's car.

**Ginny: you’re right, we’re just playing a part, but I shouldn't have gone about tonight the way I did. You're helping me out, and it's not fair to you. I came by to tell you that, but it looks like you're busy. I hope you and Amelia have a good night.**

She hesitates for a moment before she hits send, then shuts her phone off. She takes the long way back to her condo and lets herself cry all the way there, wiping her tears away before she gets out of the car.

 


	8. how about we stop pretending?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeks in*  
> So...lots of emotions about the last chapter. I'm sorry?? But, I so love you all for your fervor and I REALLY hope you enjoy this chapter. x

Ginny wakes the next morning groggy, her eyes heavy and gritty feeling.

She rolls over and picks up her phone to check the time and curses when she realizes it's still off. She turns it on and sits up. The morning light is still wan, so she's confident it isn't later than usual.

When she signs on to her phone, a barrage of messages pop up, and a notification that she has a voicemail from Mike takes over the screen.

Ginny clears all the notifications not in the mood to deal with it at the moment.

She gets out of bed and moves through her morning at a slower than normal pace. She can hear movement and quiet voices on the other side of the door, but she isn't inclined to leave the haven of her room just yet. They have a rare off day during training that is being filled with promotional work for the team, so her usual rush to get going isn't in her.

Her phone rings and she sighs when she picks it up, but answers it anyway.

“Yeah, Amelia?” Ginny says tiredly.

“Were... you still asleep? It's nearly seven-thirty,” Amelia asks with an incredulous tone. “I just wanted to go over the plan for today. I booked a separate interview time with Vanity Fair for you and Mike.”

“What? Why, Amelia?”

“I talked with Mike about it last night. He said he was going to talk to you, hasn't he?”

The mention of Mike and last night and Amelia's very casual way of bringing it up sends a sharp pain through Ginny's chest.

“No, I haven't spoken to Mike today.”

“Well, okay,” Amelia says before she launches into the profile idea she and VF’s latest superstar reporter came up with. The concept is simple enough: an article designed to be one part fluff piece, and one part aggressive profile dealing with the layers of sexism, racism, and homophobia that plague MLB.

“There’ll also be some photos to go along with it,” Amelia gushes. “I really wanted them at Petco, but time’s of the essence for this profile. They want to run it at the start of baseball season, and I don't imagine you and Mike will have to keep up this charade for much longer.”

Ginny wants to ask what that is, but she keeps the question to herself, not ready to know the answer. “That sounds fine. Just send a car around to pick me up.”

“I think it's a better idea if you and Mike arrive together. You'll just come from the team promo spots to the mini-golf place.”

“Wait, what? Mini-golf?”

Amelia sighs. “I knew you weren't paying attention. I thought it would be a good idea to do the interview and photos at the stadium, Mike talked me into the mini-golf place instead because you two had such a great time there. His words. He says it’d be of more interest to readers to see you as less of a brand, which is pretty smart.”

“Yeah,” Ginny mutters. “Mike's just full of great ideas.”

“So you're okay to ride with him there?”

“Sure. Listen, I've got to go. Ev is on the other line. I'll see you at the sports complex later.” Ginny ends the call before Amelia has the chance to say goodbye.

Her phone buzzes in her hand almost immediately after she hangs up, and she barely manages not to throw it across the room.

_**Mike: answer your phone, Ginny** _  
_**Mike: you promised you wouldn't stop talking to me again. But you are.** _  
_**Mike: nothing happened last night. Yes, Amelia came over, but we talked about you and I tried to stop her from unilaterally making decisions on your behalf** _  
_**Mike: I should've called, I'm sorry I didn't. Nothing happened.** _

Ginny stares at the messages. They kept a relationship from her once, she has no desire to live that again.

Mike doesn't owe her anything beyond the lie they're building for public consumption. Regardless of how her heart feels.

She types a short message back.

**Ginny: it doesn't matter. I'll see you later.**

***

Ginny hitches a ride with Livan to the sports complex. She knows Blip can tell something is off, and rather than subject herself to twenty interminable minutes riding in charged silence or being lectured, she chooses Livan’s less taxing presence instead.

“Mami,” Livan starts as they pull into the player lot at the complex. “Is your boyfriend going to kill me?”

“What?”

Ginny follows Livan's gaze to a few spaces in front of where he parks his car. Mike stands, arms crossed as he leans against the side of his truck, his gaze drilling into Ginny's through the windshield.

She takes a deep breath and releases it on a long sigh. She slowly gets out of Livan's car but doesn't move closer to where Mike stands.

“You okay?” Livan asks as he sidles up beside her, hi eyes trained on a scowling Mike.

She nods. “Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for the ride.”

“Of course, Mami. I got you.” He jostles her with his shoulder before he throws one last look Mike’s way, then turns to head into the sports complex.

“Remember when you said, not even a week ago, that you wouldn't stop talking to me again?” Mike begins without preamble. “What the hell, Baker? Nothing is going on with Amelia.”

“Okay,” she shrugs. She hitches her bag higher on her shoulder and starts to walk past him.

“Hold on,” he reaches out and gently grabs her elbow to stop her. She looks down at his hand, then back up at him. He releases her and takes a step back, his hands up in supplication. “I don't get what's happening right now, Ginny. I told you nothing is going on with me and Amelia.”

“And I said okay.”

“Clearly you're not okay.”

“What do you want me to do instead, Mike? This isn't real,” she says as she motions between them. “I don't give a damn who you see, as long as you don't screw up what we’re trying to do.”

“I'm still not seeing Amelia. How many times do I have to say that?”

“And I told you, I don't care either way.” She pushes past him, but he doesn't let her get far.

“Why are you acting like a brat?” he asks.

She stops and turns to him, a sneer firmly in place. “I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't want to be a part of whatever drama you and Amelia cooked up and so happily had me be a part of. I should've said no. Nothing is going to come of this except for me being a laughingstock yet again while you get to go off and do and see whomever you want. We have to pretend with everyone else, but I'll be damned if I pretend like I'm happy when it's just the two of us.”

“You're behaving like a child,” he spits out.

“Says the guy who didn't want to talk last night, but can't stop saying what he didn't do. You said it best last night, we’re playing a part. We don't owe each other loyalty. We’re not together. Just let it be.”

She turns and stomps off, ignoring Mike who refuses to let her be.

When they make their way inside to the clubhouse, Ginny gets a welcome reprieve in order to change into her uniform. She takes a few extra moments to decompress, to knock some sense back into herself. She knew the deal from the get-go, she had no reason to believe anything changed.

Once she's in her uniform and a little more in control of her emotions, she heads out to the main area. As she gets nearer, raised voices and commotion greet her.

The entire room is in an uproar, with Blip and Mike facing off against one another and the rest of the team acting as a barrier between them. It's too similar to her last game of the former season. She can't make out distinct words, but the din continues to build as Mike and Blip try to get free of their respective guards.

Ginny does the only thing she can think of, pulls out her phone and stands on the highest surface she can find. The bullhorn she finds to sound makes the men stop and look up at her stony face.

“What the fuck is going on?” she yells. “Calm down. I swear you idiots just need to have drama. We only have to be here for an hour, so everyone back to your corners and chill the fuck out.”

Her words are met with grumbles, but they also follow her directive while keeping an eye on Blip and Mike.

She hops down from the table and stomps over to where Mike is seated with his back to the center of the room. “What the hell was that about?” she asks when she rounds on him. His lip is split and it looks like his cheek is starting to turn a nasty shade of blue.

“Jesus,” she reaches out to touch his cheek, but Mike shies away from her touch. She drops her hand and crosses her arms. “What happened?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with, Baker. This is all a show, remember?”

Mike stands and walks back towards the training rooms.

Ginny lets the momentary pain wash over her before she moves across the space to Blip. She kicks at his chair when she reaches him. He swivels his head in her direction and Ginny sees a split lip to match Mike’s.

“Why were you two behaving like morons?”

“Just let it be, Ginny,” he says with a groan. “Or better yet, go ask your illustrious boyfriend.”

“You two need to fix your mess, Blip.” Ginny shakes her head. “You’ve been friends too long for whatever is happening to keep happening and stop dragging me in the middle of it. I have enough shit to deal with without two grown ass men behaving like children.”

She ignores the irony of the statement and walks away before Blip can comment.

Ginny doesn't leave to go find Mike, but goes into her room instead and shuts the door. She figures someone will come get her when it's time to do her promo shots, and if they don't, oh well. She's not overly concerned one way or the other.

Thirty minutes later, Sonny shows up at her door for the pitching staff photos and individual photos. When they're though, she drags her feet getting dressed, dreading having to play the happy couple with Mike for an interview.

When she opens her door, Mike stands on the other side, poised to knock. He's changed into another outfit that Ginny feels looks too good to be so casual. The purple around his eye stands out vividly against his skin.

“Are you ready?” he asks gruffly.

She nods sharply and walks beside him down the long corridor and out to the parking lot.

“Is Amelia meeting us there?” she asks.

Mike shrugs. “I guess. I haven't talked to her since last night.”

“She's not going to be happy about your new shiner.”

“I'll just tell her you did it,” he says as they reach his truck. He opens the passenger side door for her, his face devoid of emotion. “It’ll be a darling anecdotal story for the reporter.”

Ginny scoffs. “I wouldn't hit you with a baseball. Or with my fists.”

“Nah,” he leans into the truck. “You’d just prefer to hurt me in other, more creative ways, right?” He slams the door before she can respond and walks around the front of the truck.

“That’s not fair,” Ginny speaks once Mike settles behind the wheel. “That’s not fair at all. I said we should’ve talked about this last night, you disagreed. You don't get to act like you're the only one hurting Mike.”

Mike’s grip on the steering wheel tightens, but he doesn’t say anything as they pull out of the lot.

Ginny’s brows knit together and she clenches her fists the whole way to the interview. The prolonged silence makes Ginny’s belly ache with nerves. By the time they arrive at the putt-putt place, Ginny is holding on to her composure by a thread.

Mike parks the truck. Ginny doesn't wait for him to come around and open her door, preferring to put as much distance between them as she can for the time being. The place is packed with people bustling to and fro. Amelia is talking to a tall, lanky woman with a severe, chestnut colored bob. She's dressed in drab greens and looks far too cosmopolitan for a dinky nine-hole putt-putt place in Peoria.

“Right on time,” Amelia greets them with a smile when they draw nearer. “Ginny, Mike, I'd like you to meet Eliana from Vanity Fair. She's going to be doing the profile on you after the shoot.”

“Shoot?” Ginny questions.

Amelia nods. “Yes of course. I picked out incredible things for the both of you and we’ve taken over the place for the next few hours.” Amelia motions towards the tiny office beneath the giant glowing UFO. It's been curtained off and she can see a couple of people milling about with garment bags draped over their arms.

Everything in Ginny deflates. Not only do they have to pretend, but they have to do it at a grand level.

Amelia moves away from Eliana and stands closer to Mike and Ginny. “Fix whatever’s happening right now and act like you can stand to be around one another. And Mike, the story of that shiner better be utterly charming.”

Amelia turns back to Eliana, determination streaked across her features. “I’m thinking right here under the UFO for the first series of shots. What do you think?”

Ginny doesn't hear her response as she's dragged away by an assistant. Mike's at her heels and soon they're shut in the tiny front office with instructions to change into specific outfits.

Ginny frowns as she takes in the deeply gorgeous bronze dress she'd never pick for herself. “Why did you agree to this?” she mutters as she strips out of her T-shirt and bra. When she doesn't get a response, she looks over her shoulder at Mike. He's got his back to her and his shirt is off as well. There's a bruise forming at his side, but Ginny would have to be dead not to be dazzled by the view of his broad, strong back.

He still doesn't respond as he drags a white dress shirt around his body. It looks expensive and perfectly fit to his body. Ginny turns back around and doesn't let her mind wander to how well Amelia knows his sizes.

She strips off her shoes, socks, and leggings, pushing them aside and steps into the gorgeous dress that flatters her to a T. She shifts from side to side, attempting to get the zipper up without having to ask for assistance.

She's moments away from giving up when she feels Mike's fingers push hers aside and easily send the zipper up the dress. She shivers and mutters a quick thank you.

Mike doesn't move from behind her and brings a hand to rest on her hip while the other still rests on her zipper.

“I shouldn't have shut down on you last night,” Mike whispers. Ginny can hear people outside, the sounds fading in and out like a faulty radio. “I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for earlier. You're right. I...you tried to talk to me and I said no. We were heading towards something, Ginny. We were finally talking and enjoying one another again, and it was real, right? It had to be real.”

Ginny tries to ignore the heat of his against her back, but she can't when he takes a step closer to her. “I'm not seeing Amelia, or anyone else. I swear to you. I wouldn't lie about that. I wouldn't do that to you. I... care about you so much. I want this to be real.”

“Mike, I can't, we—”

A sharp knock at the door interrupts them as well as Amelia stepping through moments later. Her sharp eyes take on the scene in front of her. Her lips turn down slightly, but the emotion rushes by as quickly as it comes.

“Finish getting dressed,” she directs. “You still need to get handed over to hair and makeup, and the photographer is already annoyed about losing daylight.”

She turns and leaves, and it's only when she's gone that Ginny realizes Mike hasn’t moved. She pulls away from his hand and turns. She tilts her head back and gets caught in the look in his eyes.

“I don't know what you were about to say,” he starts. “But we there are some things that can't be faked. And we’ve not been faking this for a while now.”

He leans down with halting movements, giving her time to pull away, but she does not. He brushes his lips softly—so sweetly—against hers. He does it one more time before he turns back to his rack of clothing to finish getting dressed.

***

  
The shoot is less awkward than Ginny anticipates. Their photographer, Keelan, is young and vibrant with multi-colored streaks in his hair.

If he notices any reluctance between Ginny and Mike, he doesn't comment on it. From the start, he pushes Ginny and Mike together beneath the totally lit up UFO.

“Ginny, I want you to grab onto Mike's lapels,” Keelan begins. “And Mike, just look at her the way you've been since you got here, and put your hands on her waist.”

Ginny does as he instructs and finds herself caught up in Mike's unwavering glance. Her stomach quakes as his hands tighten at her waist. She hears the whirring of the camera lens and feels the lights moving to and fro, but she keeps her attention on Mike and gets lost in the look in his eyes.

She smoothes her hands down his shirt without thinking about it as he brings his hand up to her face and brushes a few stray strands from her cheek.

“Why can't all my models be this intuitive?” Ginny hears Keelan ask. It still doesn't break the spell they’re seemingly under.

The rest of the photoshoot goes off without a hitch. Ginny and Mike find a rhythm and a banter that's as easy as it's always been for the two of them. It feels almost perfect like they've come to a place where they don't have to think about what's going to happen next.

By the time they're through, it's dusk and they're both starving. Elaina asks some questions during the shoot but chooses to wait until it's over before asking more in-depth ones.

Eliana, Ginny, Mike, and Amelia all end up back at Smashburger, with Ginny and Mike huddled on one side, a Butterfinger milkshake in front of each of them, while Eliana occupies the other side. Amelia spends the majority of the interview pacing outside on her phone.

“So,” Eliana starts with a smile. “What made you decide that now would be a good time to let the world in on your relationship?”

Ginny clears her throat and starts to answer, but Mike stops her with a quick look.

“Mind if I answer,” he asks her. Ginny shakes her head. Mike's hand comes up to the back of her neck, his favorite spot which is rapidly becoming her own as well and presses his thumb gently into the hollow beneath her ear.

“This is still so new,” he says and Ginny tries to focus, but she struggles. “We didn't think we'd have to deal with the press and public so soon. We wanted to wait for the season to be mostly over first, but things didn't go to plan.”

Ginny is impressed with his answer and realizes vaguely that they're probably already Amelia approved. She fights to keep the frown from her face.

“How recent is recent?” Eliana asks.

Mike smiles and his fingers tighten. “The start of spring training.”

“Wow,” she responds. “Very new. And already there's so much scrutiny. Ginny, how do you and Mike deal with all the attention?”

Ginny sits up a little taller. The warmth of Mike's hand at her neck provides a deep comfort.

“We mostly just enjoy one another and worry about baseball, to be honest. We don't spend a great deal of time worrying about press coverage. It would make us crazy.”

Ginny turns and gets caught in the look in Mike's eyes. She bites her lip before she turns back to the reporter and continues.

“It's not easy trying to make this work on top of training and facing down the prospect of 120 games and a hopeful post-season, but some things are truly worth it.”

“And this is?” Elaina pushes.

“And this definitely is,” Ginny says quietly. She doesn't look back towards Mike, not ready to face him just yet.

Mike slides his hand further up her neck and applies a bit of pressure to get her to turn towards him. The desire she can see in his eyes hits her like a fastball to the gut. A rush of air leaves her lips and she has to turn away fast in order to stop herself from launching herself into his arms.

“Definitely.”

***

The rest of the interview goes by much faster than Ginny would've liked and Eliana leaves with a promise of a first draft that evening. Amelia doesn't linger either, sighting the need to return some calls, leaving Ginny and Mike alone.

“Do you want to eat here?” Mike begins. “Or do you want to find something else?”

Ginny lifts and lowers a shoulder. “What do you want?”

“That's an incredibly loaded question.”

Ginny nods and slowly brings her fingers up to brush across the tender skin near his eye. “Let's start with something to eat, okay?”

“How about we go to my place and we’ll order Thai and talk.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. I'm going to kiss you now, Gin.”

“Okay,” she breathes out just before his lips find hers again, tender but not tentative. Her fingers still touch his face while his tangle in her hair. He runs his tongue along her lips and she sighs, opening her mouth to him. He tastes of chocolate, vanilla, and cookie, but even more like Mike, a taste she's fast become addicted to.

When he pulls away, he trails his lips down her chin, then up the slope of her cheek. His lips meet his fingers at the hollow of her ear and Ginny can't stop the whimper that flies from her lips.

“Let's go.”


	9. things spoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this penultimate chapter. FYI: it's rated M towards the end.

The ride back to Mike's house is silent, but not tense. Her hand is in his, fingers laced together and resting on top of his sturdy thigh. Every so often his calloused thumb brushes over the back of hers and such a small motion shouldn't affect her, but she can't keep herself from trembling each time it happens.

Anticipation swells in Ginny's stomach as they near his house. The feeling that started out as butterflies starts to feel more like bats running amok instead.

When they finally pull into the garage and Mike shuts the door, Ginny is ready to burst out of her skin. She sighs when Mike brings their joined hands to his lip and closes her eyes against the onslaught of emotion that show clearly in Mike's gaze.

He untangles their fingers and goes around to open her door. He takes her hand again as he all but pulls her from the truck.

He doesn't let go of her when they enter, or when he finds the menu for Line Thai and pulls out his phone to order.

“Shrimp Pad Thai and summer rolls?” he asks her.

Ginny blinks and nods sharply. “Do I—”

“Yes. Almost always. Sometimes you surprise me with curry, but usually, it's Pad Thai.”

She uses the time that Mike’s on the phone to really look at him. His bruise still stands out starkly on his face, especially without the makeup from the shoot. His button-down is open at the collar displaying sparse chest hair. His eyes look tired, but when they drift to hers, some of the shadows there dissipate. Standing next to him in the kitchen she feels small beside him. Everything about him is sturdy and powerful and Ginny lingers in her perusal so long that he's off the phone and staring back at her with untempered curiosity.

Mike pulls her close and drops her had to wrap his arms around her waist. He tilts his head down and rests his forehead against hers. Ginny doesn't lean away. She closes her eyes and brings her hand up to rest at his hips just above his belt line.

Mike's hand trail up her back slowly until he has the back of her neck in his grasp and Ginny sighs.

Mike leans away and Ginny opens her eyes expecting a smug look on his face, but what she gets instead makes her legs feel unsteady as a newborn deer.

His hands are gentle on the side of her face—reverent. “Ginny,” he breathes out. “There isn't anyone but you. Hasn't been since last September. Hell, even before that.”

“Mike, I—”

“I'm tired of putting this off. I don't want to pretend anymore. Do you?”

“But what about—”

“Nothing happened with Amelia.”

She sighs. “I was going to ask about Rachel.”

Mike’s shoulders drop. “I thought... maybe. Because I thought that's what I still wanted. But when I got to LA, you're all I could think about. And I don't expect this to be easy or simple, but I want to know I've at least got a shot.”

Ginny bites her lip and shifts her weight from side to side. “Why was Amelia here last night?” she asks not wanting to wade into Rachel waters.

Mike sighs heavily. “She came over to get me to convince you about the shoot. And also to tell me all the ways I could fuck up your life if this plan went sideways. I told her I didn't feel comfortable making decisions about you without you here, too.”

“There's got to be a reason she goes to you before me.”

“Yeah, she knows what buttons to push with me where you're concerned.”

Ginny tilts her head. “What buttons are those?”

He shrugs. “Literally anything where you're concerned.”

“She was wearing your sweatshirt.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “She picked it up and put it on because she said I keep my house the temperature of an icebox.”

“You do,” Ginny returns. “But I kind of like it this way.”

“I know.”

“Did she stay over?”

“No. Why are you so bothered by Amelia? I’m not...Amelia and I don't have that type of relationship anymore.”

Ginny pulls out of his arms and leans away, arms crossed. “You both lied to me once before. I don't think it's such a strange thing to question what's going on. You were seeing her Mike. Seriously enough that she eventually told me. Her, not you.”

“I know,” he says. “And I'm sorry about that. I am. I liked Amelia, I like her, I can't lie and say I didn't. But it's not the same as what I feel for you, Ginny. What I've been trying to fight and can't anymore.”

Ginny takes a deep breath and uncrosses her arms. She steps closer to him and places a hand on his forearm. She traces her thumb over the muscle there. “What do you feel, Mike?”

She feels his eyes on the side of her face but doesn't look up from her hand on his arm. “I've said it, Ginny,” he says softly. “What do you want? What do you feel?”

“We weren't even speaking three weeks ago, but now I'm just supposed to confront these... massive feelings I have for you?”

“Well, it's a start to know you feel something.”

“Mike, please. You know that.”

“I called you every day for months, and you ignored me. Then kept reminding me that I was doing you a favor every time I thought we had a real moment.”

“But you still left. I needed you and you left.”

“You could’ve picked up the phone and said that.”

“And interrupted your life with Rachel? That wouldn't have been fair.”

“There wasn't any life with Rachel. It didn't work because I couldn't stop thinking of what if with you. And while I've gotten to experience it over the past month, I still don't know where you stand, Ginny.”

Mike gently tips her chin up and stares down into her watery brown eyes. “I was scared, too. I told you I was going to miss the hell out of you when I thought I was being traded after three months of knowing you. I know your habits, I know the different ways you hum, and how you like to eat your ice cream, I know the look you get when you're confident you're about to strike out a batter. I only called you that night I thought would be my last in San Diego. Because you're the only person I wanted to see before I got on a plane. After sixteen years, it only took you three months to completely change my life. There's nothing sudden about what I feel for you, and I'm begging you to say something. Anything.”

Ginny fights back tears as the lump in her throat rises. She tilts her head back and sighs when Mike brings his hand up to gently cup her face.

“Say anything. Please.”

“Kiss me, Mike.”

His eyes darken and grow wide. His warm, minty breath glides across her lips. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Ginny doesn't hesitate in her response. “There's no one here but the two of us. There are no cameras to see. I want you to kiss me, and I’ve wanted you to kiss me every day since you did in that bar.”

So Mike obliges.

He brings his hand up to cup the other side of her face and brushes his lips so gently against hers that she wants to cry. He moves his lips from hers and runs them over the slope of her cheeks, across each brow and eyelid before he captures her lips again.

He doesn't hurry. He takes his time teasing her lips apart with his tongue, tasting her, deepening the well of desire settling low in Ginny’s belly.

She cedes all control to him when his tongue touches hers. His hands travel from her face to the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him.

Her fingers tangle in the soft fabric of his button down as she enjoys the tremors that rock her body due to Mike's talented lips.

He pulls away gradually, his lips teasing her chin and the corners of her mouth. He brushes a knuckle along the side of her cheek. “You're a little red from my beard. Sorry.”

Ginny chuckles. “I guess that monster on your face isn't so bad.”

“I knew you loved it.”

“I do not. It's tolerable.”

Mike ducks his head and brushes his cheek across Ginny’s. She giggles softly and wraps her arms around his waist. “So, what's next?” she asks softly while his lips travel down the slope of her neck and across her shoulder.

“What do you mean?”

She pulls back and meets his eyes. “I mean with us. With this?”

“I figure the hardest part has already happened for us,” he replies with a kiss over her brow. “Everyone already thinks we’re dating.”

“Mike.”

“I'm kidding.” He traces his thumb across her bottom lip. “We have to keep doing what we’re doing, but maybe now it can mean something more than publicity. I want to be with you, Ginny, if you want. We still have to do the public stuff or Amelia will be pissed, but do you want to give this a real shot?”

“Are you really still afraid of Amelia?”

“Yeah.”

Ginny laughs and falls deeper into Mike’s arms. “There's still a lot we probably need to talk about.”

“Yeah, there is, but we’ll get there. Don't you think?”

“Yes. To both of your questions. Yes, I want to give this a real shot, and yes, I think we’ll get there.”

Mike captures her lips again, firmer and more determined than before. His hands drift down her sides to her hips. He pulls her close to him so there's only the slightest amount of space between their bodies, but Ginny wants more.

She steps into him so her chest is flush with his, her arms draped around his shoulders.

“Gin,” he breathes against her lips then trails his own down her neck until he gets to the spot beneath her ear that makes her whimper and shake against him.

He pulls away with a wicked smile and Ginny feels heat lick up her neck and burn in her cheeks. “Well that's interesting,” Mike quips.

She tugs at the collar of his shirt and tries to frown, but doesn't quite manage. “Yeah, yeah. You're amazing. Is that what you want to hear?”

Mike laughs. “Well it never hurts, but that's not what I was going to say. Has that always been a spot for you?”

She shakes her head. “I didn't know until... well until you started putting your hand on my neck and rubbing your thumb there.” When she focuses on Mike the pure lust in his gaze leaves her breathless.

“What does it do to you?” he asks, his voice rough and low.

Sudden shyness washes over Ginny who lowers her gaze from his.

“Hey,” Mike whispers. “Look at me. It's just us. Don't be embarrassed with me, Gin. I want to know how every single thing I do makes you feel.”

She raises her eyes back to his and bites the corner of her lip. She presses herself closer to his body and revels at the way his eyes go unfocused.

Ginny grows bold and rests her hands in the middle of his chest. She tilts her head back and smiles. “It makes me feel warm all over,” she says softly. “And like a live current is running through my body. Like a first-pitch strike. Like I never want to be without your hands on my body.”

“What else?” Mike asks as his thumb teases at the spot.

Ginny moans and sways when Mike's lips join his fingers there. “Mike.”

He drags his lips down her neck, nipping here an there with his teeth until he reaches her collarbone. Ginny holds herself steady by moving her hands to his biceps while his lips, tongue, and teeth cause her breath to grow shallow.

“What else?” He murmurs again over the swell of her left breast. Ginny holds back whine when his hands move from her neck, down her back, and rest above her ass. So slowly that it makes her restless, Mike’s hands trail down to caress her ass until he cups her fully and brings her flush against the front of him.

He's hard against her hip and she can't stop herself from pressing her body into the feeling.

She captures his face between her hands and brings his lips back to hers devouring him without rhythm.

An obnoxious clanging of the doorbell moved with someone pounding on the front door interrupts the moment.

They wetly pull apart, lips slick and puffy and well-used. Mike squeezes her ass and smirks before he pulls away.

“To be continued,” he says, his voice rough. He dips his head to kiss her again and they must get lost in it again because the pounding at the door grows at a furious rate.

“Okay, okay,” Mike yells towards the once he pulls away from Ginny's lips.

They eat tucked up against one another on the couch. The new level of intimacy doesn't make things awkward, but somehow easier than before.

Ginny almost protests when Mike brings his fork to her plate to steal some Pad Thai. Ginny almost gripes about it until he kisses her—quick and hot—and she has to take a moment to reorder her thoughts.

Ginny breaks their easy silence with a question? “What's the deal between you and Blip?”

Mike sighs and finishes chewing a bite of Massaman before he speaks. “The end of last season, things just kind of compounded. I didn't tell him the whole reason why I was thinking of leaving. He thinks I asked to stay, but I didn't. He got pissed at that. Then he got pissed at me for demanding you have your last start. I tried talking to him after your injury, but he didn't want to. He and Ev were going through whatever, and he kind of just cut me out of his life.” He shrugs and gives a sad smile. “You two a pretty similar in that way.”

Ginny blows out a breath. She briefly runs her thumb over the swelling, purple-blue skin. “What started this?”

“He said he heard you crying. Figured it must've been my fault. And didn't I know better than to leave well enough alone?”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault. Not at all.”

“Are you going to try and fix it? You and Blip have been friends for a long time.”

Mike grunts and spoons some more curry into his mouth. “Maybe,” he says around a bite. “Not feeling all that benevolent at the moment.”

Ginny tucks back into her own food and wondered what she can do—if anything—to help her two favorite idiots.

When they're through with dinner, Ginny moves to tuck herself further into Mike's side. She wraps her arms around his waist and rests her cheek against his sturdy chest.

“We've got an early game tomorrow,” he says before he presses his lips against the top of her head. “Do you...I mean you don't have to, but just in case you wanted to, you can. It's no pressure, and you can say no—”

Ginny pulls away from his chest and turns toward him, eyebrow raised. “What on earth are you trying to ask me?”

Mike chuckles nervously and faint color fills his cheeks. “Would you like to stay the night?”

Ginny's heart pounds harder. She finds herself nodding before her mouth forms words to say.

“We don't have to...I just thought it'd be easier than taking you home and selfishly the thought of holding you all night made me ask, but I've got other guest rooms if you'd prefer.”

“I'll stay.” She smiles and leans forward to brush her lips across his cheek. “With you, if you'll have me.”

Mike nods hurriedly and pulls them both up from the couch. Ginny reaches for their dishes but Mike waves her away.

“Leave it. I'll make the rookies clean in the morning.”

Ginny laughs and follows Mike up the stairs and into his room.

\---

If falling asleep in Mike's arms was great, waking up in his arms is far greater. The cool, crisp sheets were tempered by the warm circle of Mike's arm holding her against his chest. Citrus and sandalwood surround her as well as the clean, sunny scent of whatever detergent Mike uses.

Her fingers glide along the corded muscles of the arm that keeps her pressed against him. He's sparsely hairy and warm even to the tips of her fingers. When she gets to his hand, she takes care to tease across each knuckle and the back of each broad finger. Ginny's always been a little obsessed with his hands as well as deeply in tune with them on the field. Off the field, they're even more impressive and she longs to feel the power and weight on as many places on her body s she can handle.

Mike shifts behind her and presses his bare chest closer to her back, nestling his groin against her ass. Ginny shivers even as heat licks up her body. Mike’s hard length presses against her ass separated by the barrier of very thin fabric.

She sighs when Mike's lips push aside the collar of the too big shirt she borrowed from him the night before.

“Morning,” he breathes into the side of her neck before dragging his teeth to the spot below her ear.

Ginny's entire body reacts. She shudders and sends her hips back, pressing hard against his length; her fingers tighten around his and she arches her back, her nipples peaked and visible beneath the shirt she dons.

“Jesus, Ginny,” he huffs. “Could you come just from me playing with this spot?” He dips his tongue into the spot and another shudder takes over her body.

“I don't know,” she moans. “But you're welcome to try.”

Mike curses and chases down her lips, turns her onto her back, and tangles a hand in her hair while the one resting over her stomach moves further down her body. He takes her fingers, still twined with his and presses them against the gusset of her wet underwear.

“Fuck,” he whispers against her lips. “Do you always get this wet?”

He doesn't wait for an answer but teases their joined fingers over the pronounced nub he can make out through her scant panties.

Mike keeps his touch light and short and Ginny growls in frustration against his lips.

“You want more?”

She nods and whispers, using her hand in his to change the pressure of his movements.

“You want me to make you come?” he asks while he nips at her bottom lip and chin.

She nods again, but Mike pulls his hand away and rests it back on her belly. “Tell me, Gin. I want to hear you say what you want.”

Ginny drags in a lungful of air and releases it slowly. Her eyes lock with his and she gets lost in the haze of desire that swirls in the green-gold depth.

“I want you to make me come, Mike. Please.”

He captures her lips and untangles their fingers, using his free hand to ruck up his shirt she wears and remove the tiny underwear beneath that nearly made him swallow his tongue the night before.

She wiggles her hips to help him, and once her panties clear her knees, she kicks free of the sheet and comforter to send the tiny scrap of lace flying across the room.

He grabs her hand again, lacing their fingers together once more and brings it between her legs.

“Show me,” he commands. “How do you want me to touch you, Gin? Show me.”

She cords her free hand through his hair and crashes their lips together while their hands work in tandem between her thighs.

Ginny's legs fall apart more as she shows him the pressure she likes on her clit. When he finds the speed and rhythm section likes, she pulls her hand away and brings it to the side of his face. Mike breaks their kiss and turns his mouth into the palm of her hand, licking and kissing away the taste of her there.

His eyes find hers again and he moves his blunt, rough fingers from her clit to her slick opening. He gives her his rough palm to grind against as he sends one finger into her soaking heat.

Her back arches off the bed, but she keeps her eyes locked on his.

“More?” he asks.

“More. And harder. Please, harder Mike.”

He adds a finger to her cunt and increases the pressure of his palm against her clit.

Her breath grows stuttered and shallow. She wants to close her eyes, give into the heaviness of lust dragging her under, but the emotion that shines in Mike's eyes keeps her locked on him.

His fingers move hard and slow inside of her and it makes Ginny's toes curl. She pushes the shirt up and over her head dropping it off the side of the bed.

Mike makes a sound deep in his throat before his lips tease the nipple nearest to him.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he says before he kisses and licks her.

“Mike,” she moans.

He moves his lips back to the spot beneath her ears and lavishes it with attention. “You’re soaking my fingers.” He adds a third one and bright bursts of light crowd Ginny's vision.

Ginny can't stop the force of her orgasm when his teeth nip harder at her spot. She clenches hard around his fingers and feels him press his cock hard against her side.

His fingers don't stop, coaxing her through the most powerful orgasm she has ever had until she takes hold of his wrist and stops his movement.

He pulls his fingers from her in gentle, slow measure, the slick sound both obscene and sexy.

He kisses below her ear once more, then sits up and brings his fingers to his mouth and lick away her essence.

Ginny watches wide-eyed tracking the movement of his neck and the way his tongue licks up the palm of his hand.

“You're perfect,” he says and Ginny blushes.

He kisses her cheek and starts to leave the bed, but Ginny has other plans.

“Wait, don't you want—” she stops and looks down at his obscenely tented boxer briefs. She rubs a hand up the cotton-covered length and enjoys the way his belly jumps.

“Not today.” He shakes his head and laughs at her pout. “We don't have to rush this. Watching you come on my fingers and knowing how wet I can make you from a kiss is going to get me through the day.”

Ginny's pout deepens. “Well, it hardly seems fair you get to see me, and I don't get to see you.”

Mike smirks. “If I take off my underwear, Gin, we’re not leaving this bed for days.”

Her thighs slap together and she groans. “That doesn't sound like a bad thing.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs and tweaks one of her distended nipples. “Except we’re baseball players with a game to play.” He pecks her cheek again and rises from the bed. “If you think you can keep your hands to yourself, you can join me in the shower.”

He strips out of his boxer-briefs, bold as day. Ginny gawks at the size of him—long, thick, and heavy enough that his cock rests against his belly.

She looks back up at his and can't fault the cocky assurance that fills Mike's gaze.

“I don't know that I can make that promise,” she smiles. “But I'm willing to try.”

Mike laughs and holds a hand out to her. She takes it and allows him to help her rise from the bed. Her legs are unsteady which is the perfect excuse to wrap her arms and his waist and follow Mike into his impressive bathroom. 


	10. more than temporary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next to the last chapter! A short epilogue will be coming soon. I really hope you all have enjoyed this story. x
> 
> FYI, this chapter is rated M towards the end.

The Padres are up, 3-2 with bases loaded as Blip waits for a pitch in the bottom of the eighth.

Mike sits on the bench in the dugout, utterly relaxed beside a slightly wound up Ginny. She's not pitching, and she's probably not going to get to bat again either, but she's tense. And it's all to do with Mike.

Mike presses his thigh firmly against her own as the crack of the bat making contact with the ball rings out through the air. Ginny cheers along with the rest team that lines the fence and the bench as Blip's homer brings the score to 7 for the Padres over the Rockies.

Mike doesn't move from his reclined position, but he looks around at his teammates with appreciation, smacking his gum, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

He has his arms spread across the top of the bench—one close to Ginny’s shoulder, but not touching her. It's enough to keep her distracted and on edge. With every tap of his fingers against the wooden seat, Ginny remembers the feel of their power and precision between her thighs. Mike brought her intense pleasure two times over but didn't allow her the opportunity to touch him.

And she wants to—desperately. Standing in the shower with a naked, wet, hard Mike Lawson is an experience Ginny wants to have again and again. Preferably with more action on her part. He wouldn't let her have her time with his body citing that they didn't have enough of it not to make them late.

Ginny pouted and teased, but Mike didn't budge.

She shifts beside him putting a bit of space between them as Blip and the others make their way into the dugout, receiving high-fives from their teammates. Blip's eyes track to where Mike and Ginny are sitting in the middle of the bench. The joy on his face clears as he takes off his helmet and gloves.

“I wish you two would figure out your shit,” Ginny grumbles to Mike. “You’re best friends. This makes no sense. Buck up and just talk to him later.”

“He punched me, Ginny.”

“And you fought back!”

Mike sighs and shakes his head. “Doesn't matter. He threw the first punch. He thinks I'm going to hurt you.”

“Tell him you're not.”

“I shouldn't have to! He’s my best friend—was. He should know that I’m not pretending.”

“Like I knew?” she asks pointedly.

Mike grunts and folds his arms over his chest. “You knew and avoided it.”

She jabs his side lightly with her elbow. “You have to be explicit with some people. Assumed things get missed or ignored. And then you look like an ass.”

“Mhmm. I'll think about it.”

Ginny makes a frustrated sound before she turns to look directly at him.”How about this—until you and Blip figure out your shit, there's no more kissing.”

Mike’s eyebrows inch up his forehead. “That seems pretty cruel to you, Baker. Especially since we both know how much you enjoy it.”

Ginny feels get face heat, but presses on. “You once said you wouldn't kiss me again unless I asked, and I'm telling you I won't kiss you again unless you and Blip actually talk to one another about all of this shit between you. You two are my favorite idiots here.”

“You're very sweet to me,” he replies.

“I just want this to end, Mike.” She shakes her head and sighs. “It's not good for anyone. The team notices and it's messing with the game. But most of all, I hate to see you two this way. You were friends before I came along and I hate to think I caused this.”

Mike’s frown deepens. “Blip and I might have used you as a catalyst, but we’re responsible for this, not you. I'm sorry you feel caught in the middle.”

Mike unfolds his arms and starts to move his hand to her neck, but pauses right before he does. “It’s so easy to forget where I am when I'm around you,” he says quietly. He scoots a little on the bench so they're not pressed so close together.

Ginny shakes her head and follows him, sliding to close the short distance between them. “We don't have to put on a show, but I like being this close to you.”

Mike’s eyes darken and sweep down Ginny's body. She shivers involuntarily and Mike kicks up a corner of his mouth when he sees. “It's like you like me or something, rookie.”

Ginny opens her mouth to tease him, but catches the flash of vulnerability in his eyes. “I do like you,” she replies instead and is rewarded with a real smile Mike reserves solely for her.

Mike brushes his fingers briefly across her shoulder. “Can I get that in writing?”

Ginny laughs. “You can get that any way you want, old man.”

“Have pity on me,” Mike says as he clutches dramatically at his chest. “How am I supposed to handle you flirting with me like this?”

She shrugs. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Never.”

“So you'll talk to Blip?”

Mike huffs, but he nods.

“Good,” Ginny says and nods back. “This can't seep into the regular season. We’ll be headed back to San Diego soon.”

Mike's fingers dance across her shoulders. He lets his touch linger at the base of her neck and slide beneath her ponytail. Ginny's legs snap together and she sends a warning glance his way.

He chuckles warmly and releases her neck to cross his arms over his chest once again. “So, what's going to happen to us when we get back to San Diego?” he asks casually.

Ginny spends a moment to watch the play of emotion flit across his face. She clears her throat and starts lightly.

“Well, I have every intention of dating this aging catcher from the San Diego Padres. You may have heard of him, he's a relic, but incredibly easy on the eyes.”

Mike fights a grin as he turns an ineffective glare her way.

She shrugs. “Don't tell him,” she begins leaning in to whisper in his ear. “But I'm kind of crazy about him. And I want to make it work. Even if it's tough, I think it'll be worth it.”

Mike swallows hard and looks away for a moment before he reaches over and laces the fingers of his right hand with her left. “That all sounds wonderful, Baker. You should be sure to tell him what a lucky mook he is every day.”

“Count on it.”

\--

Ginny watches Mike and Blip disappear down a long hallway of the sports center.

She glances down at her phone before she makes her way back to her little changing room and waits. She checks the day’s box scores and paces the space as she worries her bottom lip between her free thumb and forefinger.

Ten minutes pass, then fifteen, then twenty before a knock finally sounds at Ginny’s door and startles her. The door opens a crack and Mike peeks in. “Ready to go rookie?”

Ginny nods and grabs her bag, hitching it over one shoulder. She stops Mike with a gentle hand on his forearm and pulls him into her cubby, shutting the door with a soft snick.

Her eyes glide over his face. “No new bruises. I take it your talk went better than your last one?”

Mike sighs and shrugs, jostling his own backpack. “It was fine.”

“So…”

Mike just stares at her in response. She rolls her eyes and gives him a quick shove.

“What happened, Mike?”

“We talked,” Mike replies gruffly. He holds out his hand and nods towards the door. “The day's still young, let's get out of here.”

Ginny frowns but takes his hand anyway. The feel of his big, warm, rough hand against hers is a feeling she hopes she never gets used to.

The walk through the still clubhouse to the player’s lot without interruption. Mike releases her hand once he opens the door to his truck and closed it behind her when she settles.

Ginny doesn't disturb the silence for a couple minutes until they make their way onto the stretch of road that leads to Mike's house.

“Are you going to tell me what you and Blip said or am I going to have to pry it out of you?”

“I don't know,” he begins. “Option two sounds interesting. What would that involve?”

Ginny rolls her eyes. “Nothing sexy, perv.”

Mike laughs and the sound is so free and unburdened that it takes Ginny's breath away for a moment. Her eyes take in his relaxed shoulders and the joy that's so obvious across his face and relaxes, too.

She reaches across the center console and places a hand on his thigh. “I suppose you don't have to tell me, but at least tell me you're on the way to making things better. The two of you.”

The smile doesn't leave Mike's face as he nods. “We are. Thanks, Gin.”

She gives his thigh a squeeze before she moves her hand, but Mike captures it in his own, laces their fingers together, and brings them to his lips.

\--

When they reach Mike's house, they collapse together on his couch. Ginny drapes herself against Mike's side, her thigh thrown across his sturdier one, head tucked against his shoulder.

She groans in satisfaction when Mike's hand squeezes her thigh and drags her leg over his lap.

“I could fall asleep like this,” she murmurs into his shoulder. “You're an excellent pillow, captain.”

Mike grunts and though she can't see his face, she bets he's rolling his eyes. She scrunches her nose as his beard and lips brush across her forehead.

“You hungry?” he asks. “I'll make us something to eat.”

“I'm always hungry, but just stay here for a little while,” Ginny replies and tucks her head into his chest. She thinks back on all the wasted time she spent denying these feelings when she could've been wrapped around Mike's big, strong body instead.

She turns her head and glides her lips across his neck and down his cloth-covered collarbone. He shifts on the couch and leans back to see her face.

“Hi,” he murmurs before his lips find hers.

She's smiling broadly and laughing until his tongue sweeps across her bottom lip and he moans against her mouth. She tugs at his shirt to draw him closer while he uses her leg for leverage and pulls her fully into his lap.

Ginny settles with a shiver as she feels his bulge through the thin layer of her lycra and she wants more. She tilts her hips forward into the cradle of his hips and relishes the sounds that leave his lips.

“Gin,” he murmurs against her mouth. “Let’s slow down. I should fix us something to eat, then we can just relax for the night.”

“What if I don’t want to relax?” she replies with a quick swivel of her hips.

“Gin,” he breathes against her mouth again before he brushes his lips across her chin and down her neck. “I’m serious. We don’t have to rush this.” His hands are on her hips, holding her firmly as his tongue teases the hollow of her throat.

“Mike—”

He pulls his lips away and tilts his head back to look up at her. “Please. I’m not going anywhere. Are you?”

Ginny places her hands on Mike’s shoulders and moves back to take him in fully. She climbs off his lap and shakes her head. “I'm not planning on going anywhere, but you can't ask that without explaining why.”

Mike sighs and drops his head back against the couch. Ginny scoots close, props her elbow beside his head, and waits for him to speak.

“Out of things I happen to be good at, baseball and sex get top billing.

Her eyebrows shoot up her forehead, but she doesn't say anything as he continues.

“I don't want...I don't want this to only be about sex. I'm good at that. I want a relationship with you.”

“Mike, you were married once.”

“Is this really the time to bring that up?”

Ginny rolls her eyes. “What I mean is, you're not just good at sex. That can't possibly be true because you were married.”

“And divorced in case you've forgotten.”

Ginny brushes her thumb over the apple of Mike's cheek. “I know, but that still doesn't mean you're not good at relationships. Hell, if our pasts only dictate our future, we're screwed.”

Mike frowns and swallows hard. Ginny leans forward and kisses the corner of his mouth. “We're going to have to work together to make this work, Mike. I don't know the first thing about a good relationship from my home life. The best example I have are Blip and Evelyn, which as examples go is pretty great. We already know this won't be easy, why deny what we both really want?”

Mike brings a big hand up to the back of Ginny's neck and squeezes gently. “I want everything. I want to make this work, too. I just don't want you to regret moving too fast. Ginny, we have all the time in the world. And for once in my life, I’d like to not go zero to sixty.”

“Even after this morning?”

“Especially after this morning.” Mike shakes his head. “You felt perfect coming apart in my arms. But I loved waking up to you in my bed. I should've left it there.”

“I don't regret it.”

“Neither do I. I could never regret you, but I also just want to savor every first. Not rush through them.”

Ginny lets out a long sigh then laughs. “Fine, I guess. But I was really looking forward to getting my hands all over you.”

Mike's mouth drops open. “Oh?” he breathes out.

“It only seems fair, after all. You know, in the name of equality.”

Mike full-on laughs and the sound is contagious. Ginny joins in and falls into his side as they chuckle warmly together.

“I suppose we can come to an arrangement,” Mike begins. “But only after dinner.”

\--

After dinner, Ginny and Mike work in tandem to clear the dishes and load the dishwasher. It's achingly domestic as they stop every few moments to exchange a touch or a kiss or a heated look.

It takes them a while to clear everything, but neither of them seems to mind. Mike offers Ginny his hand when they're through cleaning and leads then up the stairs to his room.

He doesn't lead them to the bed, but to the cozy sitting area beneath the large window that overlooks the dusky desert sky.

Ginny raises an eyebrow, but Mike shrugs in return, sitting down and wrapping his arm around Ginny's shoulder, pulling her into his chest.

“Mike?” Ginny begins, her cheek flush against his chest.

“Hmm?”

“Is this really all you want to do tonight?”

Mike laughs and it rumbles in her ear. “I want whatever you want, Gin.”

Ginny turns her head and presses a kiss where her cheek rested before she wriggles out from under his arm and climbs into his lap.

The smile that takes over his face makes Ginny respond in kind. She keeps her eyes locked on his as she slowly undoes the buttons of his plaid shirt.

“How many varieties of plaid shirts do you own, captain? I was just joking about the Duck Dynasty thing, but now I think it might be legitimate.”

Mike shakes his head. “I don't know. I haven't counted. I just like the way they feel.”

“Hmm,” Ginny responds as she loosens the final button and sends her hands up his body, over the plain white tee he's got on underneath. She pushes his shirt off his shoulders and teases light fingers down his arms as he shrugs out of it.

She sits back and surveys him with a contented sigh before reaching for the hem of his tee and pulling it up and over his head.

As many times as she's seen Mike shirtless, something about this particular time makes her giddy and warm. She feels her body flush and the back of her neck tingle.

“I can't tell if you're embarrassed or turned on,” Mike quips.

Ginny leans forward and presses her lips to his, taking total control of their kiss. Mike wraps his arms around her neck and pulls her flush into his chest. Being surrounded by Mike, feeling his heart beat rapidly against her chest, feeling him pressing between her thighs makes Ginny want him so much.

She breaks the kiss and drags her lips across his cheek and forehead. “Can you still not tell?”

Mike tightens his grip on her waist. “It's a bit clearer, but I could still use some more clarification.”

Ginny's lips find his again and they devour one another. She can't recall the last time she had quite so much fun making out—or if she'd ever had this much fun. Her fingers tease over Mike's nipples send down the ridges of his stomach. She can't get enough of his broad chest and shoulders and stomach—all of him.

She gets up on her knees and starts to unbuckle Mike's belt, then the snap of his jeans. Their lips are still pressed together as they try to work in tandem to get Mike's jeans off.

She breaks their kiss with a wet smack as she manages to get his jeans down past his knees. Mike struggles with them on his own but eventually gets them down to his ankles, then a couple feet away with the flick of a foot.

Ginny takes a moment to admire the picture he makes: shirtless, clad in navy blue boxer briefs, tousled, flushed, and aroused.

Careful of his knees, Ginny scoots back in his lap and pulls at the elastic waistband of his briefs. The head of his cock is red and leaking against his lower stomach and twitches hard when Ginny exposes it from its confines.

She strips his underwear in a hurry. She brings her pitching hand to her mouth and licks a long stripe from the base of her palm to the tip of her middle finger before she wraps it around his dick.

Mike shudders hard and groans. She wishes she could record the sound and the way he looks with his hazy, blissed-out eyes intent on her.

He's so big in her hand, hefty, thick, and warm. She runs her thumb across the bulbous, deep red cap, slicking away the wetness there and using it to help her hand glide better around his length.

The ripple of the muscles in his stomach and how his thighs tense draw Ginny's attention for a few moments before her eyes journey back to his face. His tongue darts across his bottom lip as he steadily watches her.

Ginny slides off his lap to kneel in front of the couch. Mike whispers a low, reedy “fuck” when she does.

“I haven't done this a lot,” Ginny says in a quiet voice. “So, you'll have to tell me if I do something you don't like, or—”

“I can pretty much guarantee that I'll love whatever you do, Gin,” he interrupts. His hands grip the couch tightly and his breath stutters when Ginny’s hand tightens around his dick.

“You don’t have to keep your hands to yourself,” she says before she tips forward and licks a stripe from the base of Mike's cock to the tip.

Mike's legs shoot out on either side of Ginny's legs and his head tips back as she teases her tongue below his sensitive head.

She purses her lips and pumps his cock against the tight ring of her mouth, letting the head slip between them every few motions. She adds a teasing lick over his leaking slit and enjoys the way his thighs tense beside her.

He's much too big to get her mouth over his entire length, so she takes her time to lick and kiss and nuzzle parts of him she won't be able to reach before she takes as much of him she can into her mouth and works her hand in tandem.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Mike mutters. His hands hover over her shoulder briefly before they fall back to the couch.

Ginny takes her free hand from his thigh and uses it to move his hand to her neck. Mike wraps it around the back of her neck, then moves to tangle his fingers in her hair at the base of her skull.

He keeps his touch light, but firm as she sucks and licks over his length in alternating turns. Her jaw twinges but not enough to stop, especially as his hand tightens in her hair and his body grows more restless.

“I— _fuck_ —Ginny, babe,” Mike groans from above her. “Please, you've gotta...I don't want to come in your mouth.”

Ginny pulls her mouth off of him with a wet pop. “You can if you want,” she shrugs.

Mike looks utterly blissed out. His eyes are dark and hazy, but he shakes his head. “No.”

Her hand continues to shuttle up and down his cock, her rhythm lazy, but sure. “Do you want to come somewhere else? Like on my tits?”

“God you're trying to kill me,” he says in a rush of breath. “Not this time, but definitely in the future.”

He wraps a hand around hers and sets a punishing pace that has him coming all over their hands and his stomach in a few short pumps.

Mike drops his hand from over hers and falls against the back of the couch. Ginny gets up from her perch between his legs and makes her way to the en-suite, wetting a washcloth and bringing it back to clean the both of them off.

She slides Mike's briefs back up his thighs before she settles next to him on the couch. She tucks into his side and places a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you,” she says and Mike chuckles.

“Pretty sure I need to be thanking you.”

Ginny wraps an arm around his waist and sighs contentedly. “I look forward to learning so much with you, Mike.”

“Same, babe.” He can't quite stifle a yawn and Ginny laughs.

“One orgasm and you're exhausted, old man?”

He gently slaps her thigh twice before levering himself off the couch. He holds out his hand and Ginny takes it without hesitation.

She stands in front of him with a shy smile as he makes short work of taking off her clingy top and helping her wriggle free of her lycra bottoms. They stand together clad in their underwear, grinning happily at one another.

“Let's go to bed, rookie.”


	11. many happy returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven months later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've really been personally struggling, so this was very hard for me. I'm very sorry if it's not the story ending you hoped for. I'm still around and writing for Pitch, just very slowly. Thank you all for believing in me and still reading. And I promise I'll answer your comments--damn I suck.
> 
> I do hope you enjoy this. This chapter is rated M. Thanks for everything. x, Jen

**_Seven months later_ **

Ginny stands stock still, gaping as Mike rips off his mask and runs towards her. The dugout empties as well, but Ginny doesn't go anywhere until Mike lifts her up in his arms and spins her into the group of cheering Padres.

The Padres are NLCS champs and headed to the World Series for the first time in twenty years.

Ginny clings to Mike as the tumult of their team and the roar of the crowd at Petco drowns out every single thought in her head. Mike's big, warm body protects hers in the mêlée of their enthusiastic teammates while simultaneously making her wish they were alone.

Seven hard, tumultuous months had led to this moment, and win or lose the World Series, Mike's final season as a Padre is already one for the history books.

“You're incredible,” Mike breathes into her ear and she can just make it out over the din surrounding them. He sets her down but wraps an arm around her waist as the team runs off the field and into the clubhouse.

The champagne and beer celebration causes everyone to be a sticky mess—most particularly Stubbs—who strips down to nothing but the scantest gold speedo and stands happily in the midst of the delivery of alcohol.

After receiving his due as MVP, including a champagne bath from his teammates, a sopping wet Mike pulls Ginny aside and walks her back to her clean and dry cubby.

Mike closes the door with a soft snick and presses her between the solid wood and his clammy NLCS championship shirt-clad chest.

He kisses her soundly, his fingers cording through her wet, curly hair. She laughs against his lips and curls her fingers into his shirt.

“We smell disgusting,” she says before she backs away with a grin.

“That's the smell of winning, rookie.”

She rolls her eyes and pulls him closer to her. “Well it's starting to smell terrible and I want to get out of these wet clothes.”

He quirks an eyebrow but doesn't speak.

“Would you like to join me in the shower?” she asks tilting her head back to give him a coy look.

He nods and leans down to kiss her. “Always, but we have a presser, so we can't. Rain check?”

Ginny sighs. “I suppose. But you'll have to make it up to me later tonight. That is if you think your knees can manage.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Brat. You're going to get it so good you won't know what hit you.”

Ginny tips her head back and smiles as Mike drops a sweet kiss on her lips. “I'm going to hold you to that, old man.”

***

Their exit from the team, managers, and owners celebration is met with a few suggestive catcalls that Mike vows to have words with the team about.

But later. Much later.

At the moment, all he can concentrate on is Ginny's lithe, deft fingers at the waistband of his jeans. Her body is pressed close to his as her knuckles glide across the skin of his lower belly.

“I love you,” he breathes against her mouth while his fingers grip her hips.

“I love you, too, old man.” She unsnaps and unzips his jeans with haste, working her fingers to push the fabric down his body.

He still feels that catch in his throat and a pleasant ache in his chest when he hears her say those words to him.

As his hands get to work removing her clothes starting with her clingy, lycra-based shirt, he vows not to take those words for granted.

The house is dark and they stumble together, neither capable of being too far away from the other, even to safely make their way to a light switch.

Ginny tugs at a belt loop on Mike's jeans and traps their hands between their bodies.

“Want you so much,” she murmurs against his mouth as her fingers manage to unsnap his jeans.

Mike can't stop the grin that spreads across his lips. It makes Ginny laugh as she tries to kiss and undress him.

Ginny abandons Mike's unsnapped jeans to push his t-shirt up his torso. She gets distracted along the way and drags the heels of her hands up his torso.

She tastes like hops and a slight hint of mint, which he doesn't hate. He groans into her mouth when her fingers tighten around his waist beneath his shirt.

“Off,” she orders, pulling her lips away from his.

He sheds his shirt and jeans happily as he takes in the way Ginny shimmies her hips from side to side to release her legs from her clingy pants.

His mouth goes as dry as it did the first time they slept together when Ginny pulls her top over her head.

Her underwear is scant which never fails to surprise Mike.

“It's my one non-athletic concession,” she’d told him that first time he was lucky enough to see her so undressed. He's learned since then she covets pretty, delicate, almost impractical underwear.

(He still hopes to convince her to let him buy her a few things.)

The set she has one is Padre blue with a lace pattern she's told him about many times, but he can't remember. It's not at the top of his list of things to recall when a gorgeous, semi-nude Ginny Baker stands in front of him.

Mike grabs her hand and drags her through the living room and up the stairs. He shivers as her fingers tease the skin at the small of his back and dip below the waistband of his boxer-briefs. Ginny goes happily and with a giggling sigh as Mike drags them both to the bed. He pushes her back against the bed and covers her body with his as his lips find hers again.

Mike swears and bites her bottom lip as she slides a hand between the two of them and caresses his cock through his briefs.

“You're killing me, babe,” he murmurs as he drags his lips down the column of her neck.

“Me?” she asks as she wedges her hand between the fabric of his underwear. “I’ve been waiting all night and now you want to tease me.”

He nips at her collarbone and follows the delicate line of satin that lies between her breasts. “I didn't see you in a rush to leave.”

She scoffs. “Yeah, that's why I asked you every five minutes if you were tired.”

“I just thought you were making sure I wouldn't be too tired for this.” When his teeth reach the edge of the sheer cup of her bra, he drags it halfway down her tit until he can lick and nip her peaked nipple.

One hand works to unhook her bra while the other trails down her stomach and settles between her legs over the wet gusset of her panties.

Mike unsnaps her bra with ease and pulls back to enjoy the view of her shimmying out of the delicate bit of fabric. He hears a distant swish as it hits the floor. His lips find her neglected nipple and tease the dark brown bud.

The hand between her legs teases her clit over the fabric of her underwear. Mike works his thumb against the pulsing nub just the way he's learned she likes.

“Not enough,” she moans. Mike teases one finger, then another around her slick opening before he curls his fingers inside her and works them in tandem with his thumb.

Her whole body shakes beneath his. He moves his mouth to her neglected breast and treats it to the same attention as its mate.

Her hips writhe against his hand and little breathy sighs interspersed with sharp, needy sounds that make him feel like a king.

Mike groans around her nipple when she slides a hand beneath his boxer-briefs and closes her hand around his dick. He pulls away from her tit with a wet pop.

“Gin.”

He drops his head against her shoulder and shudders when she starts to pump her hand.

“Gin, I've got to be in you.”

“Yes,” she breathes out, her back arching high off the bed as he hooks his fingers just right. “Yes, please. Hurry, Mike.”

Reluctantly, he slides his slick fingers from her heat and rolls off of her to reach the bedside table. Her hand slides from his cock and comes to rest on his stomach.

Mike struggles to push down his briefs with one hand while he tries to rip the condom package open with his teeth.

Ginny sits up and takes the tiny package from between his lips, has it open and rolled down his length before his briefs clear his ankles.

“Climb on,” Mike commands even as he lifts her by the waist to sit astride him. She goes happily and reaches between her legs to guide his cock precisely where she wants it.

They sigh together, content to be wholly connected once again. Ginny tips forward and places her hands beside his shoulder and her mouth against his, kissing him with limited finesse as she circles and pumps her hips over him.

Mike takes hold of her ass firmly, less to help her along and more because he can't get enough of it.

She rips her lips away from his and tucks her head against his chest. She nips along his collarbone and just over his nipples as her pussy tightens around him.

“Come on Gin,” he encourages. “Come on baby, god I love the way you fuck me.”

“So good,” she whimpers and swirls her hips harder and faster. “Mike, Mike please.”

“What do you need?” he asks as he squeezes her ass hard. He runs a hand lightly down between her cheeks until he can feel her wetness and the slick of the condom. “Tell me what you need, Gin.”

“I need to come,” she begs. “Please make me come.”

He turns his hand over and presses the heel of his palm firmly against her clit. She holds onto his wrist and shivers as her orgasm rips through her.

Her pussy contracts hard around him and it's more than enough for Mike to give into the pleasure racing up his spine. He lets loose with a sharp thrust of his hips as Ginny continues to ride her own pleasure.

She stills his hand over her with a squeeze on his wrist. She takes his hand and laces her fingers through his before she collapses against his chest.

Mike sighs and squeezes her ass once more for posterity before he trails the hand up her spine to the base of her neck.

“That was when better than winning tonight,” she murmurs against his chest.

Mike chuckles and the motion rocks her body over his. “I think so, too, babe. You gotta move for a moment,” he whispers. “I promise I'll be back before you even miss me.”

Ginny grumbles and hisses a little as he slides, still half hard, from between her legs. She reclines on her back and stays there as she hears Mike turn the faucet on and off. He pads back into his room and resumes his spot as he promised, letting her body drape over his like the best blanket ever.

“Can you believe we’re here?” she asks as she scoots up his body to rest her head against his prone bicep.

“No,” he says reverently. “You're more than I ever thought I deserved, Gin.”

“I meant the NLCS, but I guess talking about us is fine, too.”

“Liar,” he says with a quick poke at her waist.

She squirms but eventually settles over him. “As weird as it is to say right now,” she starts. “I guess we should be grateful for Amelia’s plan.”

Mike strokes his fingers up and down her spine with slow, measured movements. “Hmm.”

Ginny cranes her head back and tugs at his beard. “Got something you want to say about that?”

Mike tips his head back in order to look at her face. “Amelia told you, huh?”

“She did. Why didn't you?”

Mike shrugs a big shoulder. “And risk the chance that you'd stop talking to me altogether?”

“You still should've told me,” she says as she props herself up on her elbow to look down at him. “It's been months now. You could've said something.”

“You're right.”

“Wow. Don't expect I'll hear that a lot, huh?” she teases.

“You’re hilarious,” he replies dryly. He stretches and kisses her sweetly, pulling her into his chest.

“I love you,” she whispers against his chest. “Thank you for not giving up on me and even scheming to help me.”

“Marry me, Ginny.”

“What?” she exclaims as she struggles to sit up.

“Marry me.”

Mike pushes himself up in bed and reaches across her to his nightstand to pull out a red and gold box. When he gets it in hand, he cracks the top open and takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to wait until after the series is over. I want this with you. Win or lose, just the two of us forever.”

The smile that breaks across Ginny’s face nearly stops Mike’s heart. “Yes,” she nods. “Yes.”

Mike picks up her left hand and places a kiss over the knuckle of her ring finger before he slides the 3-carat solitaire onto her finger. “Win or lose, you’ll always be my home.”

“And you’ll always be mine,”

_FIN_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you. x


End file.
